


A Matter of Timing

by Rhiw



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Clint Barton, Alpha Sam Wilson, Alpha Thor, Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Because Steve's - you know, But not strict because - well, Canon Disabled Character, Developing Friendships, Elevator Sex, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Forced Marriage, Friends to Lovers, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Peter Parker, Liberal Fuckery with Marvel Cannon, Lots and Lots of Norse Mythology, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Oblivious Thor, Omega Bruce Banner, Omega Matt Murdock, Omega Natasha Romanov, Omega Pepper Potts, Omega Peter Parker, Omega Steve, Omega Steve Rogers, Possessive Thor, Protective Thor, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Science Family, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers-centric, Steve's messed up biology, Thor-centric, Thor: The Dark World AU, Thor: The Dark World Spoilers, eyebrow wiggle, its marvel, kinda popular
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:09:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 82,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4601127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiw/pseuds/Rhiw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On that fateful day in London, it's Steve Rogers who is touched by the Aether - not Jane Foster. It changes everything. The Aether's hold on Steve is far greater than it would have been on Jane, it's destructive reach ensured by how quickly Steve's post-serum body burns through resources. Desperate measures must be taken less the Captain become nothing more than a husk for the Aether. And Thor, son of Odin, will not allow a good man - much less a shieldbrother - to die. No matter what he must sacrifice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Matter of Timing, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good, you’re not dead. Tony was concerned.”
> 
> Steve snorted, running a hand through his hair. It was getting kind of long, he needed a trim soon. “No sir, just needed some time to myself.”
> 
> “Well I hope you got your fill. You’re being deployed to London.” Steve straightened. This he could do, this was normal and Steve desperately needed normal right now. “You leave in five.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeated.
> 
> On a side note: Someone recently stole some of my stories and put them up on a website under their name. They were taken down thankfully but please, don't do that.

It was never really dark in New York nowadays, Steve mused as he watched over the city he’d once known like the back of his hand and now barely recognized. It was nearly three in the morning and yet it was still so bright you could hardly see the stars. There had been light pollution back when Steve had been growing up too, but it was nothing like what it was now. It was still just as cold in fall though, at least that hadn't changed. That was something, even if the soldier shivered as he found himself trying to memorize a whole new skyline.

His apartment in the Avenger's Tower was fairly high up and the breeze was sharp and constant, pushing easily through his layered long sleeve sleep shirt and hoodie and made his skin prickle. Growing up in the Depression Steve was no stranger to cold. How many nights had he lay awake, shivering and shaking despite being tangled so tightly against Bucky it was hard to tell where one started and the other ended?

But that was before the serum, before they’d made him into whatever he was. It wasn’t that Steve couldn’t feel cold, because he could. Just like every other Omega he had a susceptibility to the cold that most Alpha’s and male Beta’s didn’t. It was more like his tolerance had been weakened, that Steve had a tendency to grow cold even easier than most of his gender. Supposedly it was due to the fact that his blood tended to circulate more inwards, focusing on keeping his reproductive system warmed and working. At least that's what Steve preferred to think; that it was biology and not because of the ice.

Dr. Erskine had said that he would notice lots of differences if the procedure worked, but Steve – who’d been the shortest, scrawniest Omega in the entire lot – hadn’t really stopped to think of the smaller or negative ones (like temperature sensitivity) when he’d been so caught up with the idea of suddenly becoming the ideal Omega male. But in his mind it was a pretty even trade off, he could handle being a little chilly every now and then with everything he’d gotten in return.

Before the procedure, everything about Steve Rogers screamed bad genetics. He’d been sallow and skinny, his hair limp and lifeless, his hips to angular – too male – to be able to produced good children. But afterwards…even Bucky had stared at him, long and hard, when they’d met each other afterwards and Bucky had been a Beta. It still made him shiver to remember how those familiar, clever eyes had run over his new form, stilling on the wide, healthy curve of his hips.

Only Bucky, his superiors, and the scientists on the project knew his gender. Omegas served in the military during the war (who didn’t?) but they were kept away from the battlefield and so with a constant flow of suppressants and birth control (then the very edge of medical science, now so common that they ran ads for them on the television) no one even caught his scent. It was obviously not what the higher ups wanted – they wanted an Alpha, of course – but they had yet to figure out how to apply the formula to Alphas or Betas and even Erskine seemed unsure why Omega cells seemed to respond better than other genders.

So, only Bucky.

To be honest, Steve hadn’t really minded that.

The truth about his dynamic had been released in the sixties, when the government had declassified thousands of documents. It had taken a few years for it to be found, but once it did it became headline news and Steve – still lost and frozen in the sea – with his spotless war record and the mythology that had grown around his identity as Captain America – had become the poster child for the blossoming Women’s-Omegan Liberation movement.

The whole thing had thrown him through a loop. Sure, he’d been known as an Omega for most of his life, but after hiding it for so long and for such a good reason, it had been jarring to come back and find the entire world knew. Not that everyone believed it; until his revival there was a dedicated group of conspiracy theorists who were still pushing him as an Alpha – or maybe, _maybe_ a Beta.

Boy, had they taken the news badly.

Steve guessed he could handle a little bit of discomfort about his private life being so exposed if it meant he'd done some good. He was glad his memory had helped bring equality to all Americans – regardless of race, gender, or dynamic.

Anyway, back to the cold.

Steve grew cold stupidly easy – it was a little known fact that he’d worn thermals underneath his Captain America armor during the war and three (yeah, _three_ ) pairs of woolen socks. It had something to do with how quickly his body burned through calories on top of being an Omega, but the soldier didn’t really understand it much himself. Tony did and had tried to explain it to him, but like most things with the eccentric Alpha, he usually got too carried away on specifics and ended up in territory that totally blew away Steve’s education. He may have gone to college, but his knowledge – despite the personal tutoring device that Tony and Bruce had programmed on his tablet and laptop – was limited to what had been known in the forties.

And Steve had been a fine arts major.

It was freezing, so cold that the Omega felt it in his very bones, but he made no move to go inside. Steve sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at his aching forehead. His apartment – despite its mammoth size (nearly an entire floor) – seemed far too constricting right now. Excluding a few short trips to the kitchen to eat or bathroom breaks, Steve had spent almost the entirety of the evening and night out on his balcony, thinking.

Bruce had tried to call him once, as had Tony – fourteen times, in typical Tony fashion - but Steve didn’t really want to talk to anyone. He was still reeling from the information the two had given him earlier in Bruce’s lab. Once Steve had gotten settled in the Tower, Tony had become relentless in his pursuit of allowing him and Bruce to give Steve a full battery of tests. He was coming from a good place; Tony was concerned that virtually nothing was known about the serum and its effects on Steve’s body outside of what had been found in the forties, but it had seemed pretty damn invasive to Steve.

It was only Bruce – with his kind voice and soft, pleading eyes – that made Steve finally agree to it. Looking back on it, Steve figured that he had probably been so resistant to it for this very reason. Steve hadn’t wanted to know anything, not if it was bad news. At first it hadn’t been much new information; Steve’s strengths and abilities were greatly heightened, but he burned through calories and other bodily resources at an alarming rate.

Honestly, the whole thing had been kinda of amusing, if only to watch the way Tony and Bruce danced around each other. Steve could understand their hesitance, mating had never been something taken lightly. A mating was a permanent thing, something of a far different nature than just a marriage. It was something that connected the mate pairs’ biological systems to a far greater degree, reproductive cycles synching in preparation for a lifetime spent together, a hormonal bond that made the pair hyper aware of each other.

The severing of that bond – either through death or pseudo-death (a new thing that had come about in the seventies; when a pair wished to divorce, they would take a chemical cocktail that would simulate their mate’s death and end the bond. And while Steve could see the practical use of it – some bonds just weren't meant to be – it seemed a horrid thing to his morals) was said to be the most painful thing one could experience.

With the rise of birth control and suppressants came a chance to truly date, to really have an opportunity to shop for the perfect mate and test sexual chemistry before bonding. Life partnerships (marriage without mating) had grown wildly popular in the time Steve had been gone, as had the divorce rates, and most people chose to never fully risk a mating.

But Steve had never seen an Alpha and Omega so smitten on each other. It would be very funny if it wasn’t also so tragic. The whole thing screamed trust issues; Tony seemed incapable of trusting anyone while Bruce didn’t trust himself further than he could throw the other guy. Steve could understand Bruce’s concerns, but Tony made him sigh. Sure Howard had been a flashy guy, kind of wild and insensitive at times, but how on earth had he managed to damage his own kid so much?

Steve himself had only really began to play around with the idea of mating once he’d been changed. Before it just hadn’t seemed like a reality; who would want him with how he looked back then? But then he’d been frozen and when Steve had woken up – well, the world was so different. He hadn’t been ready. Now he was happy he waited. Ecstatic almost, since it would save him and whatever partner he’d chosen the coming pain.

Because in the middle of the OBGYN exam (Bruce had insisted, afraid the serum may have made Steve sterile, like his own experiments with duplicating it did to him – it hadn’t) when some of the more comprehensive test panels had come in. One look at Tony expression had Bruce pause midsentence, the joy Steve felt from realizing he was still fertile disappearing as he fell reflexively into soldier mode; bracing himself for bad news.

The words ‘probably immortal unless killed’ had been thrown around a lot.

So yes, Steve was glad he hadn’t taken any of the (many) admirers who’d thrown themselves at him since his reawakening up on any of their offers. How could he possibly mate when he would out live them? Perhaps even that Steve could handle if he had too. He’d seen a lot of people die in the war, a lot he considered close and treasured friends, and those who’d survived he'd lost while he was sleeping.

But outliving his own children? His children’s children? The Omega let his eyes close, bending until he could rest his forehead against the cold metal of the railing, and swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. No. That…that Steve couldn’t do. Perhaps it was for the best. No one would really want to mate with him anyway.

Oh maybe they would want to at first, he was a celebrity after all and Steve – while not vain – did acknowledge how attractive he was now, but what Alpha would want an Omega that much stronger them then? What Alpha pride could survive the fact that they could never make Steve submit? Or that he could hurt them – perhaps even killed them – during a heat? Any Alpha that would try would only really do it for the challenge, and then once they realized Steve wouldn’t break…

No, it’s best that he just stay unmated. Hell, if he’d known this when he first started with the Avengers he would have kept his distance from everyone. He knew how that sounded, but he’d already experienced losing a team once. Steve’s shoulders drooped, pressing those haunting memories away. He didn’t regret taking the serum, he really didn’t. But when he thought of being left alone again, of having to go through all this once more…he…didn’t know if…

On the patio table, his cellphone trilled the distinctive ringtone that belonged to Director Fury and Steve turned reluctantly, answering it dutifully after the first few rings.

“Rogers.”

“Good, you’re not dead. Tony was concerned.”

Steve snorted, running a hand through his hair. It was getting kind of long, he needed a trim soon. “No sir, just needed some time to myself.”

“Well I hope you got your fill. You’re being deployed to London; our scientists are rpicking up an abnormal jump in their gravity readings.” Steve straightened. This he could do, this was normal and Steve desperately needed normal right now. “You leave in five.”

“Roger that, sir.”

* * *

Jane was beyond herself. These numbers were incredible – impossible. If they didn’t break the laws of physics as they knew them than it was damn close. Gravity just shifting without any warning. And the portals! Freestanding, conductive portals – wormholes, really - right here in London. It was astonishing, exactly the type of thing that Jane had spent the last two years trying to find.

At first Jane had thought the SHIELD funding and support was a godsend, but the longer she spent with them the more she felt like they were holding her back. Or that she was being hidden away, kept from anything that might really help her research. Sure, Jane had access to as much information that her rather high clearance had allowed, but the Omega was convinced that there was more – that the real meat of it – was being kept from her. Why, she wasn’t sure. Maybe because it was dangerous? Either way it made no sense. She, more so than maybe Tony Stark, Bruce Banner or Erik, understood these types of phenomena better than anyone.

So to finally be out in the field – to finally _find_ something – was exhilarating. She made a silent swear to thank Erik properly once she found wherever the hell her friend had disappeared off to. And if some of her excitement was couple with a chance of finally finding a way to see Thor again…well, who could blame her? How Jane was – how was any sane, red-blooded Omega – supposed to go back to living her life normally after meeting Thor Odinson? The god was literally the embodiment of Alpha perfection – and his scent, oh man. His scent.

Jane was ruined for life.

The readings lead her further into the abandoned building, up a flight of stairs and down one hallway after another, but Jane hardly noticed, to entrapped by the data. She wished she’d had to foresight to bring a notepad with her, but she was comforted by the knowledge that the reader would be recording it all to be extracted for later. She turned the corner into yet another hallway, eyes widening as the readings went off the chart – literally. The handheld sensor couldn’t even keep tract of the spikes, it’s charts didn’t go high enough. A sudden gust of wind tore her attention back to her surroundings and Jane gasped as she was pulled forward, a strange force catching her around her navel and _yanking._ She came to a stop just before the precipice of a large chasm, arms windmilling desperately for balance.

“Darcy!” She shouted, panic a bitter taste in her mouth as she glanced around the strangely dark, foreboding room. Its interior seemed completely different from the rest of the building, a massive piece of rock sticking out from the hallway before dropping abruptly off into nothing. Stone pillars reached up from the darkness like strange teeth and Jane swallowed hard, fists curling at her side as she forced her feet forward.

She was a scientist, damn’t. She wasn’t going to let some horror-show environment keep her from knowing what was going on. An eerie cracking and hissing sound filled the room – like stone settling – and Jane stepped forward carefully, edging around a center pillar attached to the jutting rock she’d entered on. It was a large, manmade thing, seemingly all hued from one piece and the rock it rested on was heavily craved with the intricate knots that Jane had long come to recognize in her studies of Norse culture.

A strange red glow escaped it and as she grew closer, the Omega was stunned to see that the pillar was hewed clear in two with a space in between that seemed to have no supports; the rock was hovering, a violent red glow illuminating its impossibility. As she watched, strange maroon tendrils seemed to creep and swirl and Jane leaned closer, eyes narrowing as she tried to come up with anything – _anything_ – that it could be. She doubted she’d have much luck. Very little had made sense in her life since gods had become real, tangible things.

Suddenly the ground beneath her shifted and Jane gasped as her weight was displaced, stumbling forward, hands out to catch herself – and shrieked as she was roughly pulled back. Several things happened in very quick succession after that; Jane stumbled backwards – away, thankfully, from the yawning abyss - as Captain America (yes, _thee_ Captain America, in all his suited, shielded glory) caught her with a gentle yet iron-like grip on her bicep, one hand on the pillar for support as he steadied them both.

“Ms. Foster,” the Captain said, voice weary and a heavy frown on his full lips, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh no,” Jane snapped, ripping her arm from the taller Omega’s grasp, “I’m not letting you guys take this from me. I was here first, damn’t! Do you have any idea what we’ve just found? This will change –”

A startled yelp broke her rant, the Captain jerking as his right hand swung forward, bright blue eyes staring at the appendage with first confused than dawning horror. Jane’s brows furrowed, a concerned question on her lips before her mouth dropped open in stunned surprise as a red glow – horribly close to the same one she’d seen inside the pillar – began to emit from the Avenger’s hand. Captain America groaned, his other hand coming up to grasp tightly at his wrist, eyes dark with pain. He let out a labored sounding breath, stumbling backwards and against the pillar before falling abruptly to his knees. Jane leapt forward with a cry to try and catch him, but the Omega male just pushed her away with his good hand.

 _“Run.”_ The Captain snarled, face contorted in pain, and then he crumbled to the side, unmoving.

Jane gaped, falling to her knees next to the unmoving body. “Oh god, please don’t be dead. I can’t be the one responsible for killing Captain America – you’re like a national institution!” She reached shaky fingers to his throat, groaning in relief as she felt a weak but steady pulse there. “Okay, okay.” She took a shaky breath. “I can do this.” She stood, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Don’t you worry, I’m gonna get you help. You're - You're gonna be just fine.” She eyed the pillar wearily. “But I can’t just leave you here.”

Taking another deep breath, she hooked her hands around bulky shoulders and began to pull. Or rather, she tried to. It was like trying to drag a ton of cement. She grunted, swearing under her breath as her heels skidded and slid against the rock, but when she stopped for a breather she realized she’d only managed to drag him a few feet. Gritting her teeth, the Omega squared her shoulders and tried again. It may not be Jane’s fault that Captain America got hurt – or whatever was going on with him – but she’d be damned if she left this man – _this man –_ here alone when there was still possible danger around. She started to drag him again, letting out a grin when she managed a few more feet.

So what if it may take a while, but she really only needed to get him out in the hallway and then she could get help from Darcy and her intern and – Jane let out a shriek as her heel caught on something and her ankle buckled backwards, tipping her harshly onto her back. Her head smacked harshly against the stone and then – nothing.

She woke sometime later to the sound of a deep voice and a killer headache. She blinked harshly, wincing at the overhead lights before the handsome visage of Captain America suddenly blocked it. His mask was down and _Christ,_ the pictures did not do this man justice. Pale, clear skin, pouty pink lips, and beautiful blues that were shining with nothing but pure concern stared down at her. “Are you alright, Ms. Foster?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Jane muttered as she began to sit up. Strong hands caught her by her shoulders, guiding her movements to a slower pace.

“Careful,” he warned gently, “that’s one hell of a bump you’ve got there.”

“Tell me about it,” Jane agreed, bringing a hand up to rub it. “I can feel it. What happened, Captain?”

“I was rather hoping you could tell me, ma’am.”

“Please, just Jane.” Jane corrected, then felt her heart skip at the smile that earned her, tiny laugh lines pulling at the Captain’s eyes.

“Alright, than you can call me Steve.” Holy crap. She was on first name basis with _Captain America._ Jane fought the giggle of excitement as he helped her to her feet. “Come on, let’s get out of here, see if we can’t figure out what’s going on. I need to make contact, I can’t believe that SHIELD hasn’t swarmed the place yet.”

Jane scowled at the organization’s mention. “I hope not. They’re not my favorite people.”

To her surprise that earned her another warm smile. “Not my cup of tea either, but they’re a necessary evil. All organizations like that are. Come on, you can take my arm if you like.”

She didn’t need it, but Jane still took it. His forearm was like metal beneath her hand. Seriously, what had Jane done to earn being surronded by so many gorgeous people? First Thor, than Natasha Romanoff (who had just been _stunning)_ and now Captain America - _Steve._  They picked their way back down through the warehouse but there didn’t seen any sign of Darcy or the intern (Jane really needed to find out his name again, and how they were paying him) or the kids. When they stepped outside, Jane groaned at the sight of British cops _everywhere_ and just behind them Jane could see the black suits so indicative of SHIELD operatives _._ Darcy was standing distraughtly to the side, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her. The Beta shouldn’t be so excited – Jane was going to rip her a new one.

She barged forward, Captain America forgotten, jabbing a finger in her at her assistance's direction. “Tell me you didn’t call the cops!”

* * *

Steve watched the exchange with a small amount of interest. Jane Foster was a plucky thing, in a strange way she kind of reminded him of Peggy. Steve could see why she’d managed to grab – and hold – Thor’s attention.  Well, at least Steve thought he could. Truth be told, he didn’t know the god that well. They’d only spent a handful of days together when Loki had invaded and the Aesir had gone home shortly afterwards.

With very little warning the sky opened up, pelting the ground with rain and both women let out a shriek at the feel of it, Jane stomping her foot angrily as she went back to yelling, hands waving about angrily. Steve chuckled, shaking his head before frowning. He raised his hand, staring up at the very dry skin before looking upwards. He blinked in confusion, before glancing down at his feet.

It wasn’t raining.

No, it was, it just wasn’t around him.

That was…odd.

Frowning, Steve took a step to the side, then another, but the strange bubble that was keeping him dry seemed to travel with him. “What the hell?”

He glanced up, first at the two arguing women than to the police and SHIELD operatives behind them, than a flash of red caught his eye. Steve’s head snapped to the right, eyebrows rising at the sight of Thor standing at the very edge of the courtyard, Mjolnir in hand. Steve glanced at the SHIELD agents – they’d yet to see him and something told Steve that Thor didn’t particularly want to be noticed by them either – and quietly slipped off towards him.

Thor’s eyes were glued to Jane Foster and Steve couldn’t help the small smirk at that. What could he say? He was always a sucker for romances. As always, Thor’s scent hit him first. It was unlike any Alpha scent Steve had caught before and distinctly inhuman. Usually you could only catch a Alpha’s scent when very physically close or after…certain…activities, but Thor’s seemed to permeate the space around him, filling it with his presence. Something that was unnecessary, as the Aesir commanded the attention of all simply by existing.

Steve gave the warrior a small smile. “Good to see you again, Thor." He shot Jane a sly glance. "Do I need to ask what brings you to our neck of the woods?”

“…I did not come to see Jane.” Thor admitted, sounding reluctant, before those clear blue eyes suddenly snapped to stare at him. The brunt of Thor’s attention felt like a weight and Steve suppressed a shiver at it, resisting the urge to tip his head back and expose the expanse of his neck in submission. “I came for you.”

Steve’s brows furrowed, confused. “For me?”

“Heimdall could not see you.” At the Omega’s blank look, Thor clarified. “Heimdall is the Watcher, an Aesir – a member of my people – that see’s all that takes place in the nine realms. Everything and anything all at once – every soul, every event - and yet he could not see _you.”_

“I…see?” Steve said slowly, confused as to what that could mean and aware that his response sounded more like a question than anything else. “So you came to check on me?” At Thor’s slow nod Steve shrugged, reaching out to pat Thor on the shoulder awkwardly, moved by the concern but unsure of what to do with it. “Well, thanks for the concern buddy, but I’m fine –”

A sudden explosion of red light and pain rocked through his body seconds after his hand made contact with a ridiculously broad shoulder, sending him ass over head onto the pavement. Steve groaned, rolling onto his side in a desperate attempt to stand, hard won instincts screaming for him to get up and defend his vulnerability. Strong hands pulled him roughly up and Steve gasped, stumbling forward as his legs failed him, sending him tumbling into the hard metal of Thor’s chestplate.

“Something is wrong.” Thor said sharply and a hand suddenly was on his chin, prodding his face up and back until he was staring at the Aesir’s face and not his shoulder pauldron. “You are unwell.” Steve blinked bleary up at the Alpha, Thor’s features blurring in and out of focus. He opened his mouth, than shut it again when the only thing that escaped him was a pained whimper. Thor’s face hardened. “This is not right, hold on to me.”

 _You’re already holding on to me so tightly,_ Steve wanted to point out, because the place where Thor gripped him was actually starting to hurt, but then the ground beneath his feet was suddenly gone and his entire sight was filled with stars and brightly colored light and even more stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ::pokes readers::
> 
> Any interest?


	2. A Matter of Timing, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor stood bleakly in the antechamber to his rooms, watching the moonlight reflect off the towering spires of his city, disgust a heavy taste in his mouth. The knowledge that his people had placed such violent powers as the Infinity Stones on Midgard and had failed to keep watch over them – that his grandfather had hidden the fact that the Aether even still existed – filled him with a rarely felt bitterness and shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter guys!
> 
> Un-betaed.

Steve woke to the cradle of warm blankets and to the feel of a firm yet incredibly soft mattress beneath him. He blinked wearily at the ornately carved ceiling above him before slowing sitting up. There was a strange taste in his mouth, an odd sort of concentrated honey and thyme (maybe?) and a few other things he didn’t recognize. Apple? That could be apple.

The scent of the taste hung heavy around him, stealing his sense of smell for anything else but it. A glance to his right revealed a large, gracefully shaped pitcher and a smaller, strange tube next to it. He reached out, pulling the pitcher to him as he sniffed its. It carried the scent of the taste in his mouth and Steve brought it hesitantly up to his mouth. He was wary of poison (he didn’t know where he was, after all, or how he’d gotten there) but his stomach rumbled hungrily and he’d clearly been fed it once before…so…

The moment the strange juice touched his lips, Steve found himself gulping back all of it, head tilting back as he drained the pitcher. He broke away a moment later panting and his lips and chin sloppy with juice, but the gnawing hunger in his stomach was gone. He wiped at his mouth with his sleeve before setting the pitcher back down on the side table. He stepped from the bed, toes curling into the soft fur that meet his bare feet and tried to figure out where he was.

The room he was in was clearly a bedroom, a very large and noble one, with expertly carved furniture laid about and brightly decorated shields and furs, animal heads, and other trophies mounted on the stone walls. He was no longer in his uniform, the slightly confining and stiff armor replaced with a pair of simple beige trousers and a long, knee-length red tunic. Both were made from some kind of silk, so soft it felt like air on his skin, and the tunic bore some sort of repeating knot pattern around the edges of the sleeves and Steve’s collar.

The Omega made a slow, careful advance through the room and toward a large set of glass doors. Moonlight shone brightly through it and after only of thought towards what possible dangers may await behind them, Steve threw them open and stepped out onto the balcony he found there. His mouth dropped open, eyes widening at the towering city that spread out before him.

It was unlike any city Steve had seen before, the technology and architecture totally foreign, and the bottom of Steve’s stomach dropped out, breath suddenly harsh and ragged to his own ears. _Oh god,_ he thought, panicked and caught in the memory of the last time he’d woken to a sight like this, _oh god please not again._

Had he somehow been frozen again? Was this another future? No. No, no, _no._ There hadn’t been anything – no crash, no ice! This couldn’t be – he couldn’t have slept for so long. Oh god, Bruce – Tony! He’d never apologized for ignoring them, god was the last interaction he had with the only two people he could remotely call friends really going to be him dodging their good intention calls?

He backed away from the overwhelming sight, entire body shaking and covered in a cold sweat, and abruptly ran into something – someone. Steve swung around, body moving instinctively in a throw, and he managed to get his attacker over his hip before – and no, it wasn’t an attacker, it was _Thor –_ who was suddenly responding, altering the force of movement until Steve found himself  being thrown instead. Only the motion was halted almost immediately and the Omega was suddenly pressed against the warm, muscled wall of Thor’s chest, his arms held tightly and pinned behind his back.

“Peace, Steven.” Thor muttered, and the shiver that ran down Steve’s frame had little to do with the cold night air and everything to do with how close that deep baritone was to his ear, Thor’s breath ghosting across his neck with each word. “You are safe, peace friend.”

Steve shook in his head, chest still rising violently. “The year,” he managed to croak out, “what year is it? How long?”

Thor’s face showed nothing but confusion for a heartbeat, before it cleared into harsh understanding than pity. “You have been asleep for nearly three days, Captain, nothing more. You are in Asgard, my home, in our capital city which bares the same name. I brought you here for healing.”

Steve shuddered, the fight leaving him all at once and he slumped in the Aesir’s hold, forehead falling heavily against Thor’s shoulder. “I thought…”

He blinked heavily against the sting of tears that he hadn’t realized where there, but was gratified to find that none of had actually fallen. Steve felt numb, feet moving seemingly on their own accord as he was guided back insides and towards a chair next to a large fireplace that nearly took up the entirety of one wall.

A thick blanket was draped over his lap, Thor’s face kind as he tucked the ends of the thick wool around Steve’s legs before disappearing. The Omega tracked his movements, watching dumbly as he moved to the empty pitcher, lifting it and making a low sound of disapproval before reaching out and pulling a long, embroidered strip of fabric that hung from the wall.

“It is good that you drank the rest of your tonic,” Thor said quietly as he made his way back to Steve, crouching before the Omega, “we could not wake you to eat, so we have been feeding you with one of my mother’s concoctions. It is made from the apples of Iðunn.” Thor’s brows furrowed heavily, “that mixture could keep an Aesir well-fed and full for a day, yet it barely sated you for a few hours. Tell me Captain, why did my healers find you near starvation?”

Steve reared back, shocked. Starvation? Surely not, Steve had ate a full meal on the plane ride over, one packed densely with starches and carbohydrates – the types of meals planned for him by the scientist at SHIELD to keep him fueled for missions. And then he’d had two ration bars and three gallons of thick cow milk on top of that. There should have been no reason for why he was starving. That type of meal would have lasted him for at least half a day.

“I…don’t know.” The Omega admitted quietly, bring a hand up to rub at his neck in a childhood old tell of discomfort. “My body burns through fuel a lot quicker than normal humans, but I made sure I ate properly before I left to check on the gravity anomaly in London and…I don’t know. I was starving?”

“You were.” Thor said darkly. “The healers were afraid your body had begun cannibalizing itself – eating at your muscle mass when they found you. You have virtually no fat on you Captain.”

“Just – Just Steve, please.” He muttered, eyes darting up as the bedroom door opened. Thor was on his feet immediately, taking a tray from a woman (servant?) standing there before quietly shutting the door. 

“It is a bit late for náttmál – a night meal, our equivalent of dinner,” Thor clarified, “but I have been told to ensure you eat as frequently as you wish. It is a porridge and fruits, as well as some more of the drink we’ve been feeding you.”

The Alpha handed the bowl to him, but Steve didn’t eat from it, just stared down at the thick, oaty thing. “I don’t understand. What happened in London? Why did you bring me here?”

Thor sighed before sitting in the chair next to him, leaning forward onto his knees as his clasped hands hung between his thighs. He looked very handsome, the relaxed yet formal clothes displaying less of his body than his armor did and yet somehow seemed much more intimate and revealing, his hair pulled up in a loose and sloppy pony tail, but Steve barely let the thought surface before he banished it.

“When you touched me on Midgard, some sort of explosion occurred. It would have easily killed a lesser Midgardian – a human – than yourself. Such power was unnatural for Earth and coupled with your disappearance from Heimdall’s sight and illness, I felt it only prudent that I bring you to Asgard. You were unconscious when I arrived. When the healers examined you, they found that your body was beginning to shut down, you were –”

“Starving,” Steve interrupted quietly, staring down at the porridge in confusion. “Yeah, you said that a few times.”

“Steven,” Thor began slowly, carefully, “I am aware of some of your history; of your transformation and of your sleep. What can you tell me of this serum you took?”

Steve put the porridge back on the tray, sighing, before gesturing to his body. “I didn’t always used to be like this – to look like this. Before the serum I was scrawny and little, always sick, and the doctors couldn’t believe I even lived past twelve. When the war broke out – um, the World War, the second one. It was…well, it was a world war. When America – my country – joined I tried to sign up. But, you see, Omegas couldn’t fight in the war, not as soldiers. We could be nurses or administrative clerks. Even test pilots, but we couldn’t fight. And I knew that but I still wanted to help. It didn’t matter though, because no branch would take me. I was too ill, too weak.

But then I met Dr. Erskine. He had engineered this serum to make the perfect soldier, but he could only get it to work on Omegas. You see, he didn’t really understand it. He reversed engineered it from something he used to work on in Germany – that was an Axis power, he was a political refugee when the war started, didn’t agree with the Nazi ideology – and…well…you know about the Tesseract already.”

At the mention of the alien cube, Thor’s face darkened considerably. “He injected you with some form of chemical compound he’d taken from the Tesseract.”

“Yes. Well, I think so. No one really knows, most of that knowledge died with Dr. Erskine. He didn’t have a chance to pass it on before he was killed. But basically, yeah, that’s kind of the common belief. Bruce, he was trying to recreate the super-soldier serum for the government, but he didn’t get it right and well, the Hulk was the result. But he told me that he was pretty convinced from the readings JARVIS picked up from the Tesseract that serum must have been reversed engineered somehow from it.

Dr. Erskine’s serum made me like this and I began to fight for the Army. Of course everyone at the time thought I was an Alpha, but…well, they know better now. But the serum did all kinds of wacky things to me. I mean, it made me much stronger and faster than I was before, much stronger than most humans are. It even kept me alive for years after I fell in the ocean and froze. I was completely _frozen,_ but I still lived. But there are costs to that – like I have to eat way more and often than anyone I know. And…”

Steve hesitated, staring at his hands.

“And?” Thor prompted.

“I won’t age.” The Omega answered and winced at the raw edge that had escaped unwanted with them. He just couldn’t help it, that wound was far too real and new. “But I really don’t know why I was starving. SHIELD and Bruce helped me come up with a meal plan to keep me healthy and I really did eat before I was deployed to London.”

“I am sorry.” Thor said quietly and Steve glanced up at him, confused to find the blond staring distraught at his hands. “Your current state is because of something my people carelessly left on your planet. Bruce Banner’s as well.” The Alpha looked at him, face so terribly expressive in his guilt. “The Infinity Stones – the Tesseract and the Aether – should have been removed long before either could have influenced your life. It was our responsibility to remove it once your race advanced and expanded, but we did not and in this my people have failed you. And I, as their prince, have failed you.”

Steve’s mouth pursed, unsure what to say to that. “The Aether? What is that?”

If possible, Thor’s face grew even guiltier. “It is the source of your illness. Even now, it infests you; a parasite, entangled in every cell of your body, it is dependent on your continued survival for its own continued existence. But only on the survival of your body – not your soul.”

“What,” Steve’s voice cracked and swallowed harshly, licking his lips and accepting the goblet offered to him. He sipped more of the sweat liquid, the harsh dryness of his throat instantly quelled. “What does that mean?”

“If you were to die spiritually…the Aether would still control your body.”

“You mean, even if I die and my soul leaves my body – the Aether would still control it. Like – Like a puppet or something?”

Thor was regarding him wearily, and Steve knew why. He could feel his paleness, the chair and floor beneath his feet suddenly unsteady. “Yes.”

“Can you get it out of me?”

“…no. Your physiology is strong enough to hold it at bay for the moment, but only as long as you remain hale and healthy.Our healers do not know what your long term prognosis may be, nor how long your body will be able to fight off the Aether.”

Steve leaned back in the seat, bringing a hand up to hide his face. “Can you leave please?” His voice was surprisingly calm, oddly composed despite the anger and fear that was raging in his chest. “I need a moment alone.”

“Of course, my friend. I will be out in the hallway when you are ready to talk once more.”

* * *

Thor stood bleakly in the antechamber to his rooms, watching the moonlight reflect off the towering spires of his city, disgust a heavy taste in his mouth. The knowledge that his people had placed such violent powers as the Infinity Stones on Midgard and had failed to keep watch over them – that his grandfather had hidden the fact that the Aether even still existed – filled him with a rarely felt bitterness and shame.

He thought of Bruce Banner, of the Hulk, and of the struggle that was the Midgardian’s life and the knowledge that it had come about from the Tesseract was entirely disheartening. And Steven…

_I won’t age._

How terribly small and vulnerable, how young the Omega had seemed in that moment, so very unlike the warrior who’s bright soul and firm countance had allowed Thor to follow his orders – a first for one who was not his father – all those months ago in New York. Thor feared he knew, or at least suspected, how this super-soldier serum had been made. After all, the very apples Iðunn grew came from a tree whose seed had been created through harnessing a small portion of the Tesseract’s powers. The golden apples held the strongest healing powers of any herb known to the universe, so much so that when given to a lesser creature – such as a Midgardian – immortality and strength on par of an Aesir could be achieved. Such a privilege had been given to a select few; Bragi, the poet and husband of Iðunn was one, the Viking chosen for the skill of his words and out of the love Thor’s father had for those who wielded the art well. Fandral, than called Robin, had been another, plucked from Midgard by Thor during one of his very illegal exploratory trips.

It would seem that Steve had joined their ranks, however unwilling. The serum had already made him partially Aesir, enough so that the healers had been stunned when they’d run their tests. His father had stormed in the middle of the results, furious at the sight of a Midgardian brought  to Asgard again (Thor was still living down Fandral) without his permission. And while his father did have a very good reasons for forbidding the intermingling of the two races – the pain of the shortness of the lives being one, but also out of fear and revulsion to what the act of being worshipped as gods had done to his people – his rage seemed out of place.

Odin had demanded Steven be returned to Midgard, but when one of the guards had attempted to move him the Aether had reacted, throwing the guard violently backwards, and the atmosphere of the room had changed. When then the results showed that Steve was seeming stuck in metamorphosis – as if he’d eaten perhaps only half an apple –the Allfather’s hand had been forced. Oh, his father was very unhappy about the fact that the Aether (of which Odin seemed to paradoxically acknowledge and _deny)_ was on Asgard, he could not morally turn away one of his own citizens.

Which Steven technically was, given his biology.

Especially when the healers announced the only way to spare Steven from death was to complete the transformation – to give him more of Iðunn’s apples – or risk his body becoming a tool for the Aether to interact independently. No matter what percentage of Aesir Steven was, it was far too much to allow the Aether to have. And that was without touching the argument that Thor considered Steven Rogers if not a friend, an ally, and would never allow such an inglorious death to such a good man.

Thor smiled grimly as he wondered if he would ever be able to call Steven Rogers a friend once he explained the Omega’s fate to him. As barer of the Aether he could not stay in Asgard, but neither could he return to Midgard. What’s more, he no longer had a place among the mortals. As an Aesir his place was among his people, either in Asgard or Vanaheim. Though the nature of his longevity appeared to be something that Steven was already aware of, Thor wondered if he truly understood what it meant.

The challenges that awaited Steve was something Thor could truly related to. He truly loved Jane, that was something he could not deny, and she would make a fine mate, perhaps even the perfect one for him. But there are other things that Thor had to consider, as his friends and family were all too happy to point out.

Not only would he outlive her by many, many years – because truly, his time with Jane would be a mere blink in the lifespan of an Aesir – Thor was the Prince Regent of Asgard. As such he could not simply abandon his people to live out the days of Jane’s life on Midgard, but neither could he bring her here. There was also the fate of any children they would have. There had been matings of Aesir and Midgardian before, many in the times of the Vikings when their people were well known and still walked among the peoples of Earth, but the children born of them did not share the long lives of their Aesir parent. No, their lives were simply lengthened a few decades longer than a normal Midgardian. Thor would face the unattractive prospect of taking a second mate or demanding his children take an apple and spend the rest of their lives trapped in Asgard. Because those that ate one of Iðunn’s labors must renew their immortality with another every nine centuries. They would be in a sense trapped by their immortality.

And the pain of a broken mating…especially one that would be so short compared to one that Thor had always thought he would have.

He shook his head of such melancholy thoughts; this moment was not about Thor, it was about the very sick Midgardian in the Alpha’s bedchambers, one who by all Midgard accounts was the very pillar of honor and morality – and whose entire life had been shaped by the carelessness of his people. If there was one fault in the Aesir (and in his father and his grandfather) it was a lack of interested or invested love in those who dwelled in the other worlds, particularly those in Midgard, whose short lifespans and primitive technology seemed to deem then unworthy of prolonged attention.

Thor had thought the same once, but that was long ago.

Long before Loki, before he’d lost Mjolnir, before Jane, before Thor had learned what it was to live as one of them.

The Midgardians shone just as brightly as any of the other long-lived races of the nine realms, and they deserved the protection and comforting weight of the eyes of the Aesir just as any other did. There was a soft click behind him and Thor turned, surprised to find Steven ready to speak to him so soon. “Sorry about that,” Steven apologized, looking slightly sheepish, “it was rude of me to kick you out of your own rooms. These are yours, right?”

“Yes.” Thor said, stepping into his rooms to follow the Omega back towards the fire place. He could admit when he was impressed; a lesser man would have needed far more time, perhaps would even had broken from fear, by what the Alpha had told him. But Steven seemed simply resigned. “You seem very calm.” Thor ventured after a moment, observing the shorter blond as he stared into the fire, looking for any signs of shock.

“Yeah well, no use crying over spilt milk.” Steven said with a snort and a small shake of his head. “I learned a long time ago to roll with the punches. Believe it or not, this isn’t even the weirdest thing I’ve even run into. But…I’d like to hear more about this Aether, and maybe meet the healers that took care of me if that’s alright. And the guard – the one the Aether…struck, is he alright?”

Steven turned around to face him, and Thor felt pinned in place by the earnest concern in those eyes, oddly struck by the sight of the Omega. He was still very pale, the red of the tunic accentuating the pallor of his skin even as it brought out the clear, cerulean color of his eyes. His hair was still messed and haphazard from his days of sleep, pale blond locks painted gold-tipped from the firelight. Despite the air of illness that hung about him, the Omega seemed composed, his face calm but determined, his eyes serious and solemn, but his gravitas was dampened somewhat by the way that his tunic – one of Thor’s – hung loosely about his slimmer frame.

It took him a moment to realize that Steven was still staring at him, waiting for an answer and Thor cleared his throat awkwardly, unsure of what had come over him and feeling practically uncouth. “The guard is fine; nothing that our healers could not handle.”

Steven relaxed, the motion so succinct it was as if some string holding him tight had been cut, and Thor words were met with a relieved, easy smile. _A worthy man indeed,_ the Aesir thought in approval, impressed that the Midgardian had thought to ask after one of his men when so much had just been revealed to him.

 “Good. I guess all Aesir are made of strong stuff, not just you. Good to know.”

 _As are you,_ Thor mused, sighing. “Steven, I will tell you all I know of the Aether and how it came to Earth, but first there is something else I must tell. Something about the serum and…about yourself.”

Steven’s expression shuttered, body drawn tight and tall once more, and Thor's guilt grew even deeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up soon, but I've got a few chapters I need to push out for my other stories first. But I love the Norse, like a lot, and I'm really looking to put in historical Norse culture into the Asgard.


	3. A Matter of Timing, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I…see.” Thor cleared his throat. “I would advise against accepting gifts from any Alphas in the future however, at least while you remain among my people.”
> 
> “Oh.” Steven’s eyes widened suddenly. “Oh. No, that’s not – I mean, I didn’t just – Thor, tell me I didn’t just get myself engaged or something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your guys comments/kudos!
> 
> Here's the next chapter, un-betaed.

“Father, I beg you to reconsider.” Thor implored, voice low and unusually solemn as he spoke through gritted teeth. The Allfather was wise, wise beyond most living beings’ comprehension – including Thor’s – but as with everything with his father there was a duality to him that his sons had long struggled to understand.

Odin was indeed wise, and a fair and just ruler, and when Thor had been younger that was the only side of him that he truly saw. His father was a powerful man, a valiant ruler whose confidence enabled him to make hard decisions when needed, to protect their people and charges unwavering. But he could also be petty – and stubborn – and many other faults that Thor could see reflected in himself. It was, after all, why the Midgardians had viewed him as both the patron god of rulers, warriors, and truthsayers _and_  of outcasts, thieves, and tricksters.

They stood in his father’s council room, Odin on a small yet wide throne, Thor’s mother, Freya, sitting a step down on a smaller fladstool. His uncles sat in similar seats in a semi-circle around them, their expressions varying between bored, bored and amused, deeply concerned, and – in the case of Freyr – utterly blank.

“I agree that with the Aether Captain Rogers cannot be returned to Midgard–”

“Nor can he remain in Asgard. The protection of our own people must always be principle above even personal feelings, Thor.” Odin interrupted, voice hard. “As I have so frequently counseled you of late, my son.”

“There is nowhere else for him to go.” Thor grit out, barely keeping his voice from rising. He was not going to allow this to devolve into yet another conversation about his responsibilities and Jane Foster. Not when Steven’s wellbeing depended so heavily on him. Though now technically an Aesir and a Asgardian citizen, the Omega was unlearned in their laws and had no clan name – no family – to speak for him. Thor had sworn such a role upon himself and would not allow his friend’s fate to be decided without a single voice arguing in his favor. He tried for logic; “we can’t allow the Aether to go unsupervised either.”

“We could just kill him.” Thor’s uncle Ve said simply from where he was picking at his fingernails.

“The Aether will allow no harm to come to him,” Odin said with no small amount of displeasure, “such actions would be unwise at best.”

“Then seal him.” Ve expanded with the same level of disinterest from before, “bind him in sleep to the roots of Yggdrasil, like we have done to countless other threats. The waters of the Well can easily hold him.”

Thor stiffened, greatly alarmed as his father seemed to consider this. Thankfully his mother seemed to share his feelings, mouth a firm line of disapproval. “Out of the question,” she said sternly and the Omega-Queen’s will seemed to fill the space with a hardlined finality, “we can’t risk the Aether corrupting either the Well of Urd or the Great Tree.”

“My Queen is correct,” Odin said and Thor’s shoulders slumped in relief only to draw tight once more seconds later, “but my brother’s solution holds great merit. Was the Captain once not frozen, kept in perpetual slumber?”

A rage swept bubbled through Thor, swift and potent, and the air around them reacted with it; the smell of ozone growing thick as the shadows in the council room grew longer, the sky outside cloudy and violent. Thor knew little of Steven Rogers outside of what he’d seen in battle, but he’d been regaled with the legend of Captain America in great detail by Jane shortly after his arrival on Earth, eager to learn of what heroes Midgard had birthed in his absence from it. Alongside stories of his battles and deeds in the war, Jane had told him of the intrusive media and of the personal struggles they profiled. The Omega had many, a haunted man who had slept for nearly six decades and whose world had left him behind.

The Alpha could still see – and hear – the panic and fear of Steven’s reaction that first morning, when he thought he had slept once more. Thor would not allow such a fear to actualize. “If you attempt such a thing, I will take the Captain far away from Asgard.”

Odin’s eye narrowed. “And where would you take him? What planet would you endanger? Xandar? Alpha Centauri? Zenn-la? Tell me my foolish son, which race will you doom out of your compassion?”

“I will take him far outside of regulated space and dimensions, if I must. Anything to keep such a cruel and uncalled for deed from coming to pass.” Thor snarled back, hands fisting by his side. Outside, the wind picked up into an angry howl.

Odin did not look impressed.

“He is welcomed in Alfheim.” A steady voice interrupted and the staring contest between the two Alphas ended abruptly as the attention of both was snapped to Thor’s uncle Freyr. His mother’s twin, Freyr was a masculine copy of Freya, with the same mass of blond curls and bright eyes. Unlike the Aesir, the Vanir were often smooth shaven. But despite the lack of a beard to hide behind, his uncle’s expressions were always nearly impossible to read. It was so now, and the Chieftain of the Vanir’s face was smooth and without emotion. Even as Odin’s began to redden in rage.

“I forbid it.”

A single, graceful eyebrow sloped upwards in question and if possible his father’s face grew even ruddier. “You forbid me? Was it not you who gave Alfheim to me to do with as I see fit, sister-husband?”

“Regardless, I am still the Lord of the Nine Realms.” Odin said sharply, his Alpha-scent pervading the room, mixing with Thor’s own flaring scent and putting all on edge. “As such it is my responsibility to protect all nine of them and I will not allow such a danger to Alfheim or its inhabitants.”

Freyr scoffed and Thor winced at the same moment his mother rested her forehead wearily against her hand. “You speak of this boy – and he is a boy, less than a century in age – as if you hold no debt to him. His citizenship aside, have you forgotten that the very state we sit here debating is your responsibility? A burden passed onto you by the short-sighted actions of your own father?”

The words hung heavy in the air, as if Thor could reach out and pluck them from it. Long before he’d been a glimmer of an idea in his parents eyes, the sister-races of the Aesir and Vanir had warred. That time had taken place under the rules of his grandfathers, Bor and Njord, a great and horrible war, that only come to an abrupt halt when the need to unite against other races who sought to use the war as a chance to rise up against them. The truce had been further shored by the marriage of Odin and Freya, and in the era that Thor had grown up in there had been little remaining hostility between the two peoples.

His father and uncle had met several times on the battlefield before the truce had come though, and their affections for each other had always been tinged with old grudges. Thor could not help but wonder if this offer of aid was simply that; another chance to annoy an old enemy, but he was grateful for his uncle’s support nonetheless.

“I would take this offer if I must,” Thor said quickly, sending his uncle a weary smile of thanks, “for I would much prefer the halls of my kin over empty space.”

“No.” Odin said, his voice echoed by the low rumble of a growl. “This ‘solution’ does nothing to address the danger of the Aether.”

“Then continue to have our scholars and healers research here, as I will search for a cure regardless of where I go.” Thor urged, taking a step forward as he raised his hands earnestly. “Father, I beg you. The Captain is a good man and I call him readily a shieldbrother; do not do something that will compel my honor to stand against you.”

Odin’s eye seemed to blaze, his mouth a stern line and the grip on his staff hard. His mother leaned back, placing a gentle hand on the Alpha-King’s knee. “Husband, my brother’s words are not without truth. Alfheim is not an unreasonable answer. The Light Elves are skilled in both science and magic, perhaps they will be able to see something we can not here.”

At the sight of his wife’s earnest plea, Odin’s entire expression softened and Thor felt his own heart do so as well, moved as ever by the sight of his parents’ bond. His father’s face hardened as it turned back to him. “And I suppose you intend to accompany him?”

Thor stood tall, chin up, and refused to be cowed. He was growing remarkably tired of all these reminders and veiled and not-so-veiled conversations about his responsibilities. Crown Prince or not, Thor was still a living being, with feelings and morals like any other. He would not feel ashamed for doing what he considered right.

“I do.”

“Then so be it.” Odin stood, his cloak fanning about him as he threw it from covering his legs, and stood tall – the ever-present King of Asgard, potent and unapologetic. “Steven, son of Rogers, will go Alfheim until a way to extract the Aether has been found. But should he cave to its influence, he will be placed once more in hibernation.” He swung around, long staff pointing sharply in his uncle’s direction. “Do you claim patronage of this Omega, Lord Freyr? Will you hold responsibility for him; to feed him, cloth him, and keep him from harm – and to still him should the need for such actions arise?”

Freyr’s expression was unmoving, but his eyes were sharp with challenge. “I do.”  

“And do you my son?”

“He will not fall to the Aether.”

“Perhaps. I will have your vow regardless.”

“I swear it,” Thor pledged, spine straight, “no harm will come to Steven Rogers while I still draw breath.”

And the Alpha meant it, with every inch of his valor.

_Even from you, my father._

* * *

The garden Steve had been left in was stunningly gorgeous, in full bloom seemingly despite the light dusting of snow that fell. The afternoon sun warmed the chill in the air. Apparently it was the start of winter on Asgard and Steve had been bundled up accordingly before he’d been allowed outside.

The garb he’d been given to wear was warm despite the lightness of the fabric. Unlike before, the long sleeved tunic and trousers Thor had given him this morning were closer to his size and hung only slightly off his frame. The cloak was one of Thor’s, made of a thicker materiel, with the appearance of crushed velvet but the slick-smooth feel of silk, and when closed fell to his knees like a strange dress and was extremely warm.

The only sounds in the garden were the low gurgle of a not-yet frozen creek that passed through it and Steve’s footfalls against the frozen grass. The garden was small, a private one that could be accessed only by a staircase that descended from Thor’s chambers and a detailed wrought-iron gate that could only just be seen from where it sat in the thick of the large hedge walls that towered over the garden’s boundaries.

A small dining set was hidden in one corner, laden with food and that thick, apple-spiced drink. Despite the fact that he had been out here for almost an hour, the cut bred and soup somehow stayed hot enough that steam rose from them, and Steve would marvel at whatever strange magic was keeping it so if he wasn’t so preoccupied with his thoughts. Yesterday’s revelations had been…stressful, to say the least.

Steve pressed a hand to his chest, marveling at the strong beat of his heart, seemingly unchanged despite how very different his body had apparently become. The idea of the Aether – of some parasite inside him, feeding off his energy, waiting patiently for the moment Steve would be weak enough for it to overcome him – was horrifying enough. But coupled with the knowledge that his body had been transformed while asleep – that he was no longer human…

Perhaps it wasn’t that which disturbed him, so much as the fact that Steve didn’t feel any different. He couldn’t feel the Aether twisting its way about inside him, nor did he feel any more powerful. Steve felt normal…well, what passed for normal for him anyway. He didn’t feel like an Aesir, or godly, he just felt himself. How could it feel like nothing had changed when _everything_ had?

Thor had been cautious around himself since the revelation that the Omega had been…made, turned? What was even the right way to word to describe that? And the sight of the Aesir Alpha’s obvious discomfort lessened – somewhat – the sting that he’d had no say in his transformation. The Aether had been explained to him as well as Thor had been able to, and Steve understood that it could never allow to control his body, that the threat of a semi-sentient Infinity Stone marching around in a Steve-skin was too dangerous to allow. He understood that in his weakened state, the only thing that could be done was too complete the serum (and hadn’t that been a mind-blowing realization; that Dr. Erskine had never managed to actually complete the formula he’d developed and what had made Steve a super-humam had been nothing but a primitive version of something the Aesir had perfected millennia ago) but to understand something logically was one thing, emotionally…

Steve felt like he was reeling.

He was grateful for this alone time, for the chance to really think out what was happening to him, as strange as it had come about. From what he’d come to understand Thor had hardly left his side in the five days he’d been in Asgard, but this morning a summons from Thor’s father, King Odin, had come. Thor had looked unhappy as he left, though if it was because he was worried about leaving Steve alone or the thought of meeting with his father, the Omega had no idea.

Thor had made him promise to stay inside his chambers – and, seemingly as an afterthought – the Aesir had shown him the private garden. It was really a beautiful place and Steve wished he had his sketchbook, if for no other reason as something to do and keep his mind occupied away from its own thoughts.

The Omega brought his hand up, brows furrowing at the slightest tint of red he could see in his normally blue veins. He was self-aware enough to acknowledge it was the lack of control that was getting to him, even more than the Aether. He’d had no choice about coming to Asgard, no choice in his…shift, and there was nothing he could do about the Aether inside him but wait for Thor and his people to find a solution. Trapped here, on an alien world surrounded by an alien race of long-lived creatures that Steve suddenly had to count himself a member of, the soldier felt lost and out of his depth. He knew nothing about anything here and he hated it; hated being out of the loop. Helpless was something Steve had never done.

With a strange, curious detachment he brought his nail to his soft skin of his wrist, digging in deep until the skin dimpled and reddened, and watched as red veins swirled around the pressured point. Steve cut in deeper, wondering if he actually made himself bleed he’d see the Aether as well.

“What _are_ you doing to yourself, Omega?” The voice made him jump and turn towards the source, both hands clasped behind his back guilty.  An Alpha stood just beyond the outer entrance of the garden, watching him with a single eyebrow raised. He was very handsome, with wavy brunet hair and a braided beard that fell to his mid-chest, and bore a striking resemblance to Thor. “Actually,” the gate was pushed open, the metal flaring hot under the Aesir’s touch briefly before fading, “I suppose the more succinct question is what are you doing in the Crown Prince’s private garden?”

“Thor said I could use it.” Steve answered with a defensive shrug, taking a careful step to the back and side as the Alpha made his way deeper into the space. “He left to go see his father, but he should be back at any moment.”

It was a lie, but it had been a long, long time since Steve had been alone with an unknown Alpha that he couldn’t over power, and there was a sour jerk in his stomach as the Omega realized that this type of dilemma was something he was going to have to get used to again. Here in Asgard his strength was hardly something different.

“Ah. You are Captain Rogers, then. My cousin has spoken of your deeds in Midgard to me. I am Váli, son of Vili, eldest nephew of the King.” Piercing grey eyes ran over him in a quick sweep, hesitating on Thor’s cloak, before he held a gloved hand out expectantly. Steve stared at it, confused. “Well, let me see.”

“Excuse me?”

Váli made an impatient movement with his hand. “Your hand, Captain, the one you were trying so valiantly to rend your flesh from.”

Steve blushed, embarrassed that the odd act had been caught by a stranger, and held both his hands up for the Alpha to view. “It’s fine, really. See?”

The hand was caught abruptly and Steve barely contained his kneejerk reaction to slap the offending appendage away, the aborted move coming off as a hard flinch. Váli turned his hand palm up, tilting it from side to side in the sunlight, examining the smooth flesh.

“So it is.” The Alpha said slowly, eyes narrowing as he stared down and Steve realized with a jerk that the stark winter sun made the blue – and red – of the veins in his palm stand out sharply.

He resisted the urge to pull his hand away, afraid to give his unease away. Váli’s expression was oddly considering as it returned to Steve’s face and the Omega met it awkwardly. The silence that fell between them was heavy and the soldier had to resist the urge to fidget, and Thor’s cousin seemed to misread the fine quivers for something else entirely.

“You are cold.” Váli removed his gloves in a one quick, efficient movement and Steve blinked in surprise as the butter soft leather was suddenly pressed into his hand. “The winters in Asgard are harsh, Captain. I’d advise you to prepare accordingly. Tell my cousin I look forward to speaking with him – if he ever returns to the dining halls that is.”

And then the queer Alpha was gone, leaving Steve blinking after in him confusion. He glanced down at the gloves in his hands and after a moment of consideration slid them on. His hands had been cold, though he’d given it little thought, and Steve flexed them, testing out the movement. The gloves were surprisingly flexible for how thin they were and the inside was lined with some sort of downy-soft fur. He stared at his now covered hands for a long moment, than back at the gate, before giving a confused huff and heading towards the food.

Váli had been a welcomed – if unlooked for – distraction, but now his thoughts had turned darker once more. The Omega sighed as he sat on the wooden seat, breaking the bread in half and dipping it in the stew. He hoped Thor wouldn’t take much longer, Steve knew there was nothing so dangerous to him than his own thoughts, especially as frustrated as they were know.

The sky above him rumbled and he glanced up, brows furrowing at the sight of angry grey clouds rapidly covered the crystal clear cobalt. Great, looked like it was going to storm now too. As much as he was enjoying be outside, there was no way Steve was going to stay out in the middle of snow storm and the Omega hardly relished the idea of being couped up again. As large as Thor’s rooms were, they still felt like a cage to him.

The sky darkened even further, a cruel wind starting. Sighing again he gathered up the food and headed inside.

* * *

Asgard was awash in white and grey; an angry snowstorm raged freely but Thor could find very little remorse, even as he passed several of his people taking refuge under the sheltering eaves of random buildings, caught at unawares by the storm’s suddenness. He stalked through the streets, uncaring of the snow and wind that whipped at his face, and tried to rid himself up the irritation and frustration that felt like a leaden ball in his chest.

Why was his father so stubborn!

Thor could see the Allfather’s point easily enough, but it galled him that Odin refused to even speak with Steven, to get to know the Omega in any shape or form. If only he would spend a few hours with him, surely his father would see the _goodness_ of the Captain, how it was he’d captured such loyalty from Thor despite the greenness of their companionship. It was in moments like these that he missed Loki most of all; no one else truly understood how frustrating their father could be like his brother did.

Thor pushed the dark and lonely want away as he trudged through the ankle deep snow and towards Heimdall’s Seat. The Aesir was at his post, as always, and he spared not even a twitch in Thor’s direction as he entered.

“Hail, Heimdall.” He greeted, his voice tinted with annoyance and exhaustion in equal measures. “How fair the stars tonight?”

“They shine as brightly as ever.” The greeting was old, the same that was exchanged every time Thor came to visit. The dark-skinned Aesir turned to face him, an eyebrow quirked. “But I suppose it is not the stars you wish to discuss.”

“No.” Thor agreed.

“Ms. Foster?”

“Yes, but I wish to know of my friends as well. How fare the Avengers in the Captain’s absence?”

“Midgard has been oddly quiet.” Heimdall answered, hands uncurling from the hilt of his greatsword as he stepped down from his perch. “They search for him, even as they suspect his presence here in Asgard.”

“The Bridge imprint?” Thor asked, thinking of the distinct brand Heimdall’s powers left when a portal was made. The Watcher nodded once. Thor sighed. “I shall have to find some way to pass word of what has happened to them. I cannot go in person, I dare not leave Steve alone for even a moment here.”

He did not need to explain.

Heimdall had seen it all, as he always did.

“Your father has seen many things.”

“That does not mean he is incapable of being wrong.” Thor snapped before forcing himself to take a calming breath. “Forgive me. I do not enjoy being at odds with him.”

“Nor does he with you, as any father would dislike quarrelling with his son.” Heimdall mused, eyes distant. “The Allfather has a great many things he must consider, do not judge him too harshly.”

“Am I wrong?” Thor asked, suddenly feeling very young. Heimdall often made him feel this way, the Aesir was old even when Odin had been a lad. “Am I as naïve as my father thinks I am?”

The dark skinned Watcher hummed softly. “I cannot advise you on this, my prince. The Aether is a creation that predates the foundation of the Nine Realms, it is outside of my sight.” Golden eyes turned to him. “Only you can judge if your actions are correct or not.”

He tried not to let that settle so heavily. “And Jane?”

“She is hurt.” Heimdall answered simply. “She knows you were on Midgard, so near to her. She does not understand why you did not seek her out.”

Thor’s shoulders slumped, guilt a ugly and hard stone in his throat. He left shortly after that, foul temper reflected in the stormy sky, and made his way home. His rooms were located in a separate palace from the one his parents stayed in, one that was divided between his and Loki's chambers, as well as several other similar apartments for his various cousins and their families. It was attached to the main palace by a long enclosed bridge, but Thor had forgone that usual path. He needed the cold bite of the elements to calm his fury, Steven of all people deserved to see none of it.

By the time he’d reached the outer entryway to the apartments, the storm had completely dissipated and Thor felt calm. He gave the quartet of guards standing at the entryway a nod, ignoring the wary looks they gave back; everyone in Asgard knew that such violent and sudden storms were indicative of Thor’s moods. Normally had much better control over himself, never allowing his anger or sadness to influence the weather, but so much had happen in such a short span of time; Thor was on edge.

The Alpha made his way towards his chambers, steadying himself for the coming conversation. He hated to uproot Steven again so soon. So much change so quickly had to be confusing. The Omega had not taken the news he could no longer return to Midgard well. Thor could understand that. Despite his recent biological shift, the Captain was a Midgardian by birth and had fought valiantly not only to keep his country but his world safe. Thor understood what that type of dedication meant to someone, especially to a warrior.

To loose one’s purpose so must be…disheartening, to say the least.

Thor’s eyebrows rose when he found the first few sitting rooms, and then the dining room, empty. A quick search of his apartment found the Omega missing and Thor felt a flare of alarm at the idea that Steven could have remained outside during the storm. It was calmed by the sight of the empty tray of food resting on a desk, clearly brought inside, even if Steven had gone back out. He pushed open the door to his garden and indeed was greeted with a perfectly shaped pair of footsteps in the snow.

He followed them down and into the garden, and a muted smile grew at the sight of Steven standing in the very center of it, face upturned and a hand held out as if to catch the snowflakes that fell. He stepped off the stone stairs, his booted feet sinking loudly into the snow below. The Omega turned to face him, a small smile on his face as he gave Thor a wave.

“Hey.”

Thor returned the greeting, wondering how to explain the council meeting and his father’s decision as he breached the small space between them. As they had since Thor had first heard the healer’s startled cries, the Alpha’s eyes swept over Steve’s frame in a critical glance, looking for any sight of illness or unease. But Steve looked well, the pale skin of his cheeks and nose kissed a rose-pink by the cold, and his posture was loose, relaxed. The deep red of his cloak stood out in the white environment, The hood was pulled high against the chill, hiding almost all of his blond locks and making his features appear far more pronounced, the blue of his eyes almost a shocking against the red.

“Heck of a storm we just had, seemed like it just came out of nowhere. Your cousin wasn’t kidding about those Asgard winters, was he?”

Thor frowned heavily. He had many cousins, and only a few would he consider introducing Steven too. “And which cousin was that?”

“Oh, um, Váli, I think?” The Omega’s head tilted to the side, the hood settling so that the very fringe of his hair could be seen. “Sorry, I’m not good with names. Too long working with people who always wear name tags, I guess.”

Váli would be one of those that Thor would _not_ have chosen to introduce. “Alpha almost my height, brown hair, very similar to myself in features?”

“Yeah, that’s him.” Steven agreed, seemingly relieved he hadn’t misnamed him. “Didn’t seem like a bad fella,” the Omega said slowly, glancing down at his hands, and Thor followed his gaze to a pair of fawn gloves that he had most definitely not given him this morning. “He gave me these gloves, seemed kind of rude not to accept them, and my hands were a little cold.”

When they arrived in Alfheim – which was also in its winter – Thor would arrange for a seamstress to arrive first thing to provide whatever clothing item the Omega needed. That he’d apparently been neglect in providing adequate winter wear made Thor’s hands twitched by his side, jaw flexing.

“I…see.” Thor cleared his throat. “I would advise against accepting gifts from any Alphas in the future however, at least while you remain among my people.”

“Oh.” Steven’s eyes widened suddenly. _“Oh._ No, that’s not – I mean, I didn’t just – Thor, tell me I didn’t just get myself engaged or something.”

The Alpha laughed in surprise, the sound loud and true and most welcomed after the hard events of the day. “No, nothing like that. But perhaps it would be wise to err on the side of caution.”

“Yes. Definitely.” The pinkness on Steven’s face grew, traveling down his neck, and Thor doubted highly that it had anything to do with the cold. “Not that there’s anything wrong with you folks, it’s just – I mean, now really isn’t the time–”

“Calm, Captain.” Thor interrupted, amused at the rambling. “I took no offense.”

Steven gave him a look. “I thought we were going to give this ‘Steve’ thing a try.”

“Indeed, I did agree upon that, didn’t I?” Thor said, his chest gratefully lighter as his smile grew wider. He took a step forward, resting a hand on the slope of the Omega’s back as he guided them towards a covered bench. Steven seemed eager to be outside and perhaps the open air of the garden would be better to explain their move tomorrow. A sudden thought struck the Alpha, stilling his movements. “There isn’t…anyone, back on Midgard? An Alpha that I should seek out and explain what is happening to?”

The Aesir prayed there would not be, such a thing would make this more of a tragedy than he could bear.

“No.” Steven said quietly, eyes locked on their snow heavy feet. “There wasn’t time and…well, no one would really want to mate with me anyway.”

Thor frowned, taken aback by that statement. “I find that hard to believe. You’re renowned throughout your world as not only a warrior but a leader of men – and surely you’re not unaware of your own beauty.”  

This, the Alpha realized belatedly, was a deeply personal line of questioning – perhaps too deep for their infantile friendship – but it was too late to take the words back, and the nature of the conversation had been dictated by Thor himself, with his very first question.

Steve huffed. “No Alpha would want an Omega as strong as I am.”

“Perhaps not,” Thor mused. Perhaps those words were true, perhaps no _Midgard_ Alpha would wish for such a thing. Maybe there could be one good thing to come out of this after all. Maybe Thor was overstepping, but if the idea of finding a mate could offer even a grain of hope for Steven… “Such a thing would not be true here, though.” He said slowly, mindful of the way the Omega stiffened underneath his touch. “Neither your strength nor your longevity would be considered strange among the Aesir or Vanir. If that would be something you wished later on, of course.”

“Yeah,” Steven said slowly, “later on, maybe. If the Aether doesn’t kill me first.”

Thor’s fingers curled reflexively into the dip of the Omega’s back. “I will not allow that to happen.”

He meant it wholly, the fierceness of it reflected in his voice, and the sound drew Steven’s eyes too him. They were thick with an emotion Thor could not identity, even as he stared down into the searching gaze.

“You really believe that.” Steven mused, voice somewhere between confused and comforted.

“I do.” Thor answered firmly, attention unwavering, willing the Omega to feel his belief.

The Aether would not take him, Thor Odinson would not allow it. If it was this brave man's fate to be wrenched from his world so, cursed and changed by the folly of Thor’s line, then he would see Steven cured and hale, content and happy – and mated to a good Alpha or Beta if he should wish it – if it was the very last thing he did.

“Thank you.” Steven said earnestly, quietly serious.

“My heart would allow me to do no less for a friend.”

“You barely know me,” the Omega insisted with a minute shake of his head.

“You are a solider, Steve. You of all people should know that bonds of battle require very little to take root.” Thor said with a frown of his own. “It matters not that we do not have years of friendship, I still call you shieldbrother.”

Steven’s lips slanted into a small, uneven smile. “Is that like a battlebuddy?”

 _Battle…buddy?_ What an innocuous term for a bond born out such violence. “Yes, I suppose the terms could be equated to each other.”

The smile grew wider and Thor’s attention was caught by thin wrinkles that spread from the corners of his eyes and a strange, almost sudden awareness of the beauty before him. He had meant what he said earlier; while he was relieved to find no mate waiting for Steve in Midgard (waiting, as it sadly would have been, for a mate that would perhaps never return) he was startled to find it so.

Steven was…very comely, especially as he stared up at Thor with such open, artless affection and gratefulness.

“Thor.” Fandral’s voice was a sudden interruption and both men startled, turning to face where the Beta was standing at the gate of Thor’s garden, looking highly amused. It struck Thor then how this must look to Fandral _(especially_  to Fandral) with how closely he and Steven were standing, how his hand rested still on the small of his back, and how the Omega was turned – ever so slightly – to stare up at him. He broke away, clearing his throat as he took a step backwards, hand dropping from the blond’s person. “I came to help you prepare for the move. I can come back, of course, if I’m…interrupting anything.”

Fandral’s eyebrows wiggled suggestively and Thor groaned, resisting the urge to smack his hand to his face as Steven blushed heavily, head ducking in embarrassment. Damn his friend and his one-track mind!

“You are not,” he ground out, fighting the urge to throttle the Beta as the protective wards on the gate flared and dissipated, Fandral stepping into the garden, still grinning like a cat that got into the cream.

“I’m moving?” Steven suddenly said, embarrassment seemingly gone as he processed Fandral’s words.

“Yes,” Thor said, pausing as he tried to think of a way to harshen Odin’s objection to Steven’s presence in his world before deciding there was no way to do so, “to Alfheim, the realm of my Uncle Freyr, who is the King of the Vanir, our sister-race. It is less populated,” – the 'if the worse was too happen' hung heavily unsaid – “and their healers and scholars are some of the best. Hopefully we can find an answer there, though those in Asgard will not cease searching either.” He added quickly, not wanting Steven to think he was being abandoned completely.

The Omega wiped at his mouth. “…are you coming?”

“Yes, of course.” Thor answered without hesitation, confused not only by the question but the relieved look Steven shot him. “I would not leave you, Steve.”

The shorter blond shifted awkwardly, undoubtedly aware of Fandral’s presence, as his friend was doing _nothing_ to hide the fact that he was openly ease-dropping. “It’s just, you’re the only thing around here I know and…” The Omega faltered. “I’m going to go inside for a moment, if that’s alright?”

“Of course it is,” Thor said quickly, stepping back to give Steven even more room, “I’ll be in momentarily. I can tell you more of Alfheim if you’d like?”

“That would be good,” Steven said slowly, “I’d like to know more about it if I’m going to be living there for a while.”

The Omega broke away, head still ducked and expression hidden as he headed towards the stairs. Thor watched him go, feeling oddly helpless. Fandral slid up next to him, fiddling with his gloves. “So…” The Beta began, grin sly.

“Not a word.” Thor bit out, sending him a harsh glare. “I am in no mood to hear your gossiping, friend.”

Fandral held both his hands up in defensive, his smirk never muting. “Of course, of course.” Then, after barely a heartbeat of silence, “he’s very _pretty,_ isn’t he?”

Thor groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, god I love Norse mythology. Of course, Váli isn't really the son of Vili but rather one of Thior's half-brothers, but I didn't want to make Odin a cheater (I means technically Freya/Frigg isn't even Thor's mom in Norse mythology) so cousin he is! I also tend to picture him as Liam Hemsworth for some reason. What do you guys think of the development? Slow paced, I know, but you know me. I need to set shit up before I make my characters just start groping each other.
> 
> Thor/Steve is seriously one of my utmost OTPs, because - yum. And it seemed to just make so much sense to me. Drop me a line if you have a question!


	4. A Matter of Timing, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They locked eyes from across the room and Thor’s grip tightened ever so slightly around his mug. The Vanir was an Alpha; it was clear now in her demeanor, in the very way she stood, and even if it hadn’t been so pronounced Thor would have sensed it once their eyes had met. Alphas always recognized each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your reviews and encouragement.
> 
> Here's the next chapter, un-beated, featuring possessive!Thor and generally confused!Steve.

The night was late, but there was nowhere else Sif would rather be. She knew it was the same for her companions, even though Volstagg had a rather large brood he could be at home with. They were here for Thor, who was so clearly very troubled and need of good company. He sat quietly, and the mead in his hand untouched as he stared pensively into the fire. They sat in Thor’s study, a small but cozy room in the far back of his quarters.

Their Prince was greatly disturbed by what he’d learned of the Infinity Stones and his ancestor’s actions with them, feelings that the shieldmaiden shared. It was hard enough to understand that that fierce Bor or wise Odin had left two Infinity Stones untended on Midgard for long enough. But coupled with the information that their influence had caused such damage to Thor’s Avenger allies…well, it was a hard thing to accept.

It was shocking what the seemingly primitive Midgardian’s research into the Tessarct had brought to fruit; advanced weaponry of which they had no comprehension of their true violence, this ‘super-soldier’ serum that had made a fiend called the Red Skull and forced the good Captain’s evolution into an Aesir, and of the pitiful fate of Dr. Banner.

How could their kings have left such power for so long? Did they not care that the Midgardians had developed to a point where they could study and use them, but had yet reached an appropriate maturity? They were like children, their short lives ensuring that few would ever reach a level where they could truly understand that the powers and politics they were playing with had _galactic_ ripples.

Had any one of a thousand of races learned that the Tesseract or the Aether were on the planet – well, the likes of the Battle of New York would have happened far earlier. It was shameful even for Sif and it had not been her family who was responsible for it.

The air was heavy, reflective as it always was of Thor’s emotions, and Sif observed her friend quietly from her place besides the fire. Fandral was humming softly, playing with his tankard, while Volstagg had long since fallen asleep. They had spoken at great length – brainstorming and planning, reaching really, for anything that may help Steven. All three of them had wanted to accompany Thor to Alfheim, but he’d requested that stay here instead and keep him updated not only on the research efforts in Asgard but on the political atmosphere. More specifically, the Alpha wanted to know if there was any discussions of Steven Rogers in his absence.

It was something the Thor Sif knew ten years ago would not have thought to ask and to some extent the shrewed command it filled her with melancholy, but it could not be helped. Thor was the heir to the throne, he had to learn politics and intrigue at some point.

Especially as he would no longer have Loki by his side to do it for him.

There was a soft clunk as Thor set his drink down and stood. “I believe we should call it a night, my friends. The morning will come early.”

Sif stood immediately as well, snorting as Fandral slapped Volstaag awake. They followed their prince through the wide hallway that ran lengthwise across the many rooms that made up his apartment, before coming to a stop outside his bedchambers. Thor’s rooms were as familiar to the trio as their own homes, they could easily see themselves out.

 “Sif,” Thor said as he paused before the door, “I have a favor I must ask of you. I need you to go to Midgard and tell what has happened to the Avengers. And to Jane.”

Thor paused, glancing wearily down at his feet and Sif was grateful for it, as it gave her a moment to school her features. It was no secret that she had harbored feelings for Thor since they had been but children playing together with carved wooden swords – no secret, it would seem, to anyone except Thor.

She had always assumed that had some point they would end up together. It had seemed only natural; she was the only Omega Thor ever spent any real time with, and it seemed more of an eventuality than anything else. But then there had been Midgard and Jane Foster, and the hard realization that she was but a sister in Thor’s eyes. And Sif had too much honor and dignity to hold out for something she knew was not coming. She’d let those dreams die with grace, but that did not mean that it wasn’t sometimes quite painful.

“Tell her…tell her that I am bound by duty, and that I will try and contact her as soon as I can. She is, as always, in my thoughts.” The Alpha-Prince looked up at her, cornflower blue eyes bright and intense. “Can you do this for me, my friend?”

Sif gave him a smile, grasping his shoulder tightly. “Of course I can. Consider it done, Thor.”

The smile he gave her was full of relief and gratitude. “Thank you. Goodnight, my friends. I will see you tomorrow morning, before I leave.”

The door opened and with it a rush of scent. Thor’s musky Alpha scent overwhelmed even the smell of the fire but besides it was a new scent, a crisp and clean Omegan one that made Sif stiffen and her stomach twist. She knew that it was nothing, that Thor’s affections belonged to Jane Foster and kept Steven in his personal rooms only out concern for his safety, and yet the sight of an Omega sprawled out across her Prince’s bed made her heart clench.

One would have to be blind not see Steven Roger’s beauty, especially as he was now. He’d somehow come free of the blankets, long legs on display from where they peaked out of a sleep tunic (one of Thor’s, no doubt) and Sif rolled her eyes as Fandral’s not-so-silent murmurings of approval from besides her. Thor shot a warning glare at the Beta, an expression that translated into a clear and unambiguous _‘don’t even think about it.’_

Then the door shut and the pair quietly made their way out, Sif running her hands over the door consul and double checking to ensure it was properly locked. She gave the guards on duty a nod of farewell, yanking an unsteady Vostagg behind her as they made their way down the steps. He was heavy with both drink and sleepiness, but between Fandral and herself they managed to get him home to his fairly unamused looking wife.

They parted only a handful of moments later themselves, pausing at the crossroads where each would depart on opposite rodes to their respective homes. Snow was beginning to fall around them, their breaths curling like white mist around their faces, and Fandral watched her knowingly.

“He doesn’t mean to hurt you, you know.”

Sif nodded once.

“I know.”

* * *

Steve examined the pieces of the outfit laid across the bed – where it seemed to dominated the large thing. There were at least four different layers that he could see. Thor had warned him that Alfheim was naturally a colder climate than both Earth and Asgard, and that it was in the midst of its winter, but Steve was starting to believe that his friend may have downplayed how cold it was going to be there. There were far too many layers to his new outfit, and though all of it was silky smooth on his skin and ranging from paper thin to the perhaps the weight of a nice button up, every piece felt very warm in his hands.

Outside of the bed chamber, he could hear Thor’s overly helpful friend Fandral moving about. Worst case scenario, he could always call him in for help…but Steve would rather avoid that. The Beta seemed like a nice enough guy, but he was rather…handsy, would be the polite way of putting it. Thor was gone, putting his affairs in order before the move, but he’d be back any moment and Steve knew he had to be ready to travel soon.

 _Okay,_ Steve thought as he stepped up to bed, slipping the oversized robe free and letting it pool by his feet, _start with what you know._

Despite the fact that the underwear was a strange, _shiny_ cream color, it went on like any other pair of briefs and while they hugged his curves rather tightly, they were very comfortable. A pair of equally comfortable (and equally skintight) pair of hose went on next and Steve had to hop about, cheeks flushed in embarrassment and glad to the heavens that no one was there to see him squatting and yanking at the fabric to get it to sit right in a trick he’d learned from his armor.

The leg wraps came next. Those were definitely something new. Seemingly worn instead of socks (and to be worn despite the fact that the hose seeming worked as socks for Steve) they were long strips of fabric that were wrapped diagonally down the leg, starting at the knee and ending around the foot. The entire design seemed archaic to him, but there was nothing crude about the elegant textile or crisp edges of the strips. They were easy enough to put on once you’d done it a few times but Steve had struggled with them quite a bit his first day with them.

That seemed to be the theme of the outfit. Ornate and decorative, archaic in design yet at the same time elegantly simple and oddly futuristic, it was a drastic change from the simple clothes that Steve usually preferred. All that stitching and fashion should have been uncomfortable – yet so far nothing Steve had worn in Asgard had been.

There were two nearly identical pairs of shirts next. Both were a grey, but one was slightly lighter with a matte pattern of swirls while the other was plainer with a simple repeating pattern across the collar. Thor had explained to him yesterday how to tell the difference between an undertunic and an overtunic; undertunics were often plain save for a creative but mild textile or a bit of embroidery around the collar or sleeve ends, while overtunics were more often ornate and featured a high collar that undertunics did not.

Steve pulled them on, followed by a high-collared leather vest similar in coloring. The inside of it was lined with some sort of fur that seemed designed to peak out around the edges. He nearly bit the end of his tongue off when the vest simply clicked together on its own, no zipper, buttons, or ties required. That was another running theme of this place; they had science so advanced here it seemed almost like magic. A pair of matching leather trousers came next, gliding with ease over his legs and hips with the presence of the hose, and then a pair of snug boots made from matching material.

The cloak he’d been given was also quite thick, easily the thickest of the fabrics Steve had seen so far, and it was heavy in his hands. There was a detachable hood that snapped onto the back, one with a caplet of fur that fell about his shoulders, and the hood ended in a long, tapered point – and was also lined with fur on the inside.

There was a lot of fur and a lot of leather, Steve thought with no small amount of disparagement, and the Omega resigned himself to a rather cold future. But perhaps there was some hope. The entire outfit was very warm, so warm that he was slightly uncomfortable in Thor’s chambers despite the fact that he normally found them quite chilly.

Steve was trying his damnest to stay positive about this whole thing, no matter how impossible that seemed, and so he tried to think of the good things that Thor had told him about Alfheim. Alfheim was a realm of peaceful creatures called Light Elves and a smaller percentage of a race called the Vanir, of whom Thor’s uncle was apparently a King of. The population was a fraction of what it was here in Asgard, with only one main city and two smaller ones that apparently were more considered villages than anything else, and yet supposedly was mecha for the study and celebration of science and art.

That could be exciting. Not just the science part (and Steve hoped desperately that someone there could find a way to get the Aether out of him – but no, he pushed the thought of it away. It would do no good to get himself worked up again over things he couldn’t control) but also the artistic element. What did alien art look like? What was their standard of beauty? Who was there Picasso, their Rembrandt, their Michelangelo? 

There was knock on the door, Thor’s questioning voice drifting from behind it, and Steve called him in as he fumbled with tying a (purely decorative?) fabric belt around his waist. After a moment he gave up, just tying it in a bow before glancing up with a sheepish grin.

Thor looked dashing as always, some fairytale prince come to life in all blacks and charcoals, his blond hair almost a shockingly golden, and just as heavily layered as he. Steve would have been embarrassed about staring if it wasn’t so clear that Thor was doing the same. The Aesir’s eyes dragged down him in a slow sweep that Steve swore he could feel, stilling on his hips before snapping back to his face. If Thor felt any shame for being caught, he showed none of it, closing the space between them in a handful of steps.

“Here,” the Alpha said kindly, untying the simple knot and pulling the belt free, “you wear this style higher, on your natural waist not your hips. Hold an end here and wrap it around yourself like so, than you take the other end and tuck it into the folds. The aim is to keep everything smooth and from twisting or folding ungainly.”

“Not a very practical belt.” Steve muttered, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine as Thor’s large hands fiddle against his side.

“No, but it isn’t meant to really be one.” He agreed with a chuckle, “I will have you know this considered high fashion right now in Alfheim.” Steve scoffed because he’d _never_ given two shits about fashion and Thor’s smile grew larger. “I promise we’ll have you back into battle armor in no time. For now, perhaps view this as a very interesting cultural study.”

“Trust me, I’m trying to.” The Omega said mulishly, before sighing. He could hear the brat in his own voice and was worried he may seem ungrateful, which was certainly not what he intended. Thor had been nothing but kind and helpful, a true friend to Steve, and he didn’t meant to be rude. But he had a lot of pent up energy that was driving him up the wall. This was quite possibly the longest he’d gone without having a decent workout since he’d gotten the serum. He told Thor as much, coupled with an apology, and the tall Aesir patted his shoulder consolingly.

“I will see what can be done of that when we are settled.” The taller blond mused, “I do not believe the Aether would react to you training alone, but we must be very careful that you do not overtire yourself.”

Steve knew that. It didn’t make it any less frustrating to hear. He’d been treated like glass once already in life and that chapter was supposed to have been closed with the serum’s effects. And yet here he was again, being fussed over and swaddled. And if a part (a small, teeny, tiny part) of him was floored by the gentle care – well, no one needed to know.

“Join us in the sitting room when you are ready; we will depart as soon as you do. Take your time,” Thor said with a final pat to his shoulder, “there is no rush.”

He appreciated the thought, but really there was no real reason for Steve to hang around. Nothing in here was his, there was nothing he wanted to take with him or that he thought he’d miss, and so he turned and pulled his new gloves – he was unsure of where the pair Váli had given him had gone, they'd just been missing when he'd woken up – and settled the cloak about his shoulders.

Steve moved to leave only to still, eyes wide, as he caught his reflection in a large, floor length mirror. He was not a vain creature by any means, but even Steve could not resist gawking at himself. It appeared that Asgardian style of clothing was… _very well-fitted,_ to say the least. Form fitting clothing was nothing new to Steve, after all his armored body suit was tight out necessity, but this felt different.

[A Matter of Timing](http://betahimetsukiko.deviantart.com/art/A-Matter-of-Timing-570933460?ga_submit_new=10%253A1446959964) by [EstherCloyse](http://betahimetsukiko.deviantart.com/)

The outfit should have been bulkier, or shown more seams of the over lapping layers, but the entire ensemble hugged his frame in one long, lean line, broken only by the slight dip and raises of his outermost layers. With the exception of the cloak (a deep cerulean with grey fur accents) and his vest and boots (both graphite in color) the outfit was a uniform dove grey color, and the colors made his eyes an almost startling, eerie shade of blue. The colors – along with the fit – made Steve seem softer somehow.

He looked more Omegan, Steve realized all at once. The clothing was seemly cut to play up the swell of his hips, the tucked curve of his behind and the slight downward slope of his broad shoulders – the traditional characteristics of a male Omega. It wasn’t something any of his military uniforms had done before, as the Army had done everything possible to downplay those features and Steve had followed suit in his personal wardrobe. It all made Steve feel oddly exposed as he remembered Thor’s lingering attention.

He pulled the cloak up and over his shoulders, letting it fall across his body and hiding all save for his lower legs from sight. He took one last look around the room for anything he could have forgotten. The only thing that actually mattered - the only thing of _Steve's_ \- his shield, was resting next to Mjolnir in the other room where it had been for the last few days. Steve knew it sounded crazy, but he felt almost like the two weapons were communing or something. One of the first things he’d done when he’d awoken was seek out his shield, and when he’d rested his hands on her large curve, Steve had felt a jolt of awareness – a vibration – that he hadn’t before.

He was certain it had come from Mjolnir.

Steve would have to ask about that later, when he and Thor had settled into…well, he guessed their new home. The Omega took a deep breath, holding it for one long moment before exhaling, and headed out.

* * *

The portal to Alfheim stood out in sharp contrast against despite the fact that Asgard was also in winter. It was large and vaguely circular in shape, though it was somewhat hard to see because its edges seemed blurry and fluctuated and shifted like water. It was also almost entirely white, a fierce and angry wind tearing through it and littering Heimdall’s post with snow.

While Midgard could only be reached by use of the Bifrost (and in its absence, Heimdall’s powers) the rest of the nine realms were easy enough to travel to via wormhole technology – but only through the Watcher’s Rest. Heimdall controlled all points of entrance to Asgard, save for those secret paths only his brother knew. Thor had gone to visit Loki before leaving. It had not been a pleasant visit, but Thor had known it would not be. To his distress and frustration, his brother showed no regret for his actions on Midgard. Perhaps his father was right; a few thousands of years in solitary confinement may inspire Loki to review his actions more deeply.

How it was his brother could still play the role of the suffering martyr when his actions had caused the deaths of _thousands_ of Midgardians – Thor cut that line of thinking off before it could infuriate him. There were more important things than Loki’s selfishness to consider at the moment. Like Steven. The Omega was glancing at the portal wearily; mouth a line of displeasure, cheeks already reddened and peaked by the wind.

“The portal opens within steps of the gates of Fjallgard. The storm will not be so harsh inside the city walls.” Thor offered encouragingly and winced when Steven’s gaze dragged from the impenetrable whiteness to the Alpha’s face in disbelief. Though his displeasure was obvious, the Omega made no voice of it, simply pulling the hood of his cloak up so that it hid all but his nose and lips.    

Thor had seen to the construction of Steven’s traveling clothes himself, commissioning them late last night from a one of the best seamstresses in Asgard at a rather stiff price. He had given her most of the raw materials himself; the fur came from an alpha svell wolf of Jotunheim, the leather from the hides of Thor’s own treasured goat herd. He had been saving the material to order something for his mother for Yule, or perhaps even for a gift for Jane, but while the svell wolf had been difficult to kill there was nothing that Thor could not duplicate at a later time if he so wished it and Steve's comfort took priority.

The Lady Gyða had been worth her price. Not only had the clothes been ready by morning, but they sat well on Steven and though the cold was blistering, the Omega did not seem to feel its full force.

Thor offered his hand and Steven only hesitated for a moment before slipping his smaller one into it. The blizzards of Alfheim often came suddenly and without warning, and stole all sight save for a handful of inches in front of you, and he could not risk losing Steven. Even as close to the gates as they were, such things were not unheard of.

“Do we just…step through?” Steven asked, taking a small, aborted step forward.

Thor nodded. “Yes, it is as simple as that. There will be stairs that lead up only a handful of paces away – no more than thirty or so – and then we will be at the city gates. It will be hard to see, so hold onto me tightly so I can show you the way. Are you ready, my friend?”

 “Can’t be worse than the Arctic.” Steve offered with a shrug, but his hand gripped Thor’s tighter despite his blasé response.

The first step into Alfheim was like a punch, the winter winds pushing at them like a physical force, and even of the roar of the blizzard Thor could hear Steven’s shocked, instinctual whine as the bone-chilling cold wrapped unforgivingly around them. The snow was easily piled up to Thor’s knees and belatedly the Alpha wished he’d had the foresight to pack snow shoes for them, as each advancing step became a small battle of its own.

As they reached the first step Steven stumbled, but by then Thor had pulled so close that he caught him easily, abandoning his hand to wrap an arm tightly around Steven’s waist, tucking the Omega against his side as he pushed them onwards and upwards. Fjallgard was carved from a mountain and the steep steps to its gates reflected this, the wind insistent in its attempts to dislodge the two from them.

When they reached the top hands were suddenly on them, the thickly clad Elves that stood guard pulling them up the last few steps and through the gates. All at once the wind was gone, the snow falling at a slow, leisurely pace as the barriers that protected the great city kept the storm at bay. It was as if invisible walls sheltered the capital, and its citizens went about their days uncaring as the blizzard raged and roared around them. Thor took a breath of relief as he took in the sight, grinning his thanks at the concerned looking guards who had come to their aid.

“Are you alright, milord?”

“Yes, thank you.” Thor answered as he shook his head, sending snow tumbling off his crown and onto his shoulders.

“And the Omega?”

There was a note of curiosity there, as the Light Elves were sexually a binary race and had most likely not seen an Omega outside of the few Vanir ones that resided within the city. Thor had yet to broach that with Steven, but he knew he must. Alphas and Omegas were considered objects of fascinated to the Elves and even had Thor not been royalty, he would be subjected to stares and ogling here – and at times, rather inappropriate questions. The Elves were a scholarly race, after all. It was a slightly cowardly thing to do, but Thor had not wanted to disillusion his friend any further about Alfheim then he already appeared to be.

Steven was still resting heavily against his side, body shaking with minute tremors, and Thor loosened his hold, pushing the Omega back to get a proper look at him. “Steven, are you well?”

He let out a laugh, nodding as he reached back to pull his snow heavy hood down. His face was a fierce pink, but he was grinning widely, blue eyes bright and cheerful even as thick snowflakes clung to his eyelashes. “Boy, that was something.” Steven let out another laugh, “that was nothing like the Arctic. I swear that wind cut straight through my clothing. Is winter always like this here?”

“No,” Thor said, frowning as he ran his hands up and down the smaller man’s arms, trying to warm him, “storms that strong are rare here and only take place in the middle of winter. In spring and summer the mountains are bright with every color of flower you can imagine, and in fall the trees turn bright golds and pinks.”

“Sounds pretty.” Steve said around chattering teeth and Thor pulled him closer again, flipping his own cloak around the Omega’s shoulders.

“Come, let us hurry to my uncle’s halls. It will be warm enough inside.” The Alpha said, nodding to the guards as he led his friend down the cobblestone streets. It was almost an hour’s walk through the city before they would reach the palace and Steven still shook so strongly. After half a second of thought, Thor pulled them into a cheery looking inn, its windows brightly lit despite the frost that covered them.

“Thor?”

He sent Steven a grin. “Perhaps a cup of something warm is in order before we continue. I find myself quite chilled.”

The Omega clearly didn’t believe him, but his expression of gratitude was sign enough that Thor had chosen correctly. He deposited Steven in the closest chair to the fireplace he could find and made his way to the counter, ordering two bowls of soup and some heated cider ale for them both. If the barkeep recognized him he gave no sign, though a single icy blue eyebrow did rise slightly at the sight of him. The Elf disappeared into the back to get the soup and Thor took a deep drink of the cider, sighing at the warm caress of the hot liquid. There was the sound of laughter, startled but clear and content, and Thor’s head snapped over towards the sound.

Steven was still laughing, though he muffled the rest of the sound behind his hand, shoulders shaking slightly with it. A tall Vanir woman stood by his side, beautiful and with sharp, patrician features. Perhaps one Gullveig’s granddaughters, Thor mused, as the Vanir Lady was well known for her clan’s coloring and this woman bore their signature firey red hair. She wore a guard’s uniform of some high rank – Captain, if Thor wasn’t mistaken – and the armor and leather played up her luscious curves finely.

It was the strange way of this place. Though the Light Elves were Alfheim’s natural inhabitants, almost any position of authority was filled with one who claimed Vanir or Aesir heritage - often times both.

As he watched the lady reached forward, plucking a large ball of melting snow from Steven’s hair, holding it up with amusement before she tossed it into the fire. She said something else and the Omega’s smile grew smaller, shyer, and he said something back that had the women looking over shoulder towards Thor. They locked eyes from across the room and Thor’s grip tightened ever so slightly around his mug. The Vanir was an Alpha; it was clear now in her demeanor, in the very way she stood, and even if it hadn’t been so pronounced Thor would have sensed it once their eyes had met. Alphas always recognized each other.

Something visceral and sharp twisted in his chest when he was dismissed, the woman’s attention refocusing on Steven. Thor turned from the conversation as he waited for their food, eyebrow twitching as the sound of Steven’s laughter filled the room again. It was a welcomed sound, yet Thor couldn’t help but be annoyed at how easily this Vanir managed to pry the laughter loose, when his own recent efforts had been in vain.

He glanced over his shoulder, stiffening at the sight of the female Alpha leaning into the Omega’s space, an arm propped against the fireplace mantel for support. Thor turned from the bar (the barkeep would bring their meal to them, surely) as he decided to join them. Only to warm himself, of course, as Thor’s skin still tingled from the blizzard’s touch.

“Thor,” Steven greeted him, lips still upturned as he reached for the offered drink, “thank you, I am actually pretty thirsty. This is…ah, sorry, how do you say your name?”

“Ástríðr.” The Alpha said, sounding it slowly for him, before offering her arm in greeting to Thor. “Captain of Fjallgard’s guard.”

Thor took the offered forearm, grip tight. “High Prince Thor. Of Asgard.”

Ástríðr’s eyebrows rose in surprise (Thor rarely visited Alfheim and Mjolnir, the symbol by which almost all recognized him, was hidden by his cloak) but her own grip didn’t falter. “Fair greeting, your grace. Welcome to our city. Have you come to visit King Freyr?”

“Yes,” Thor said, shifting so his back was to the warmth of the fire, “we have come to stay in the halls of my uncle for a time.”

“Yes, Steve was just telling me so.” Ástríðr said and Thor’s took a sip of his drink to hide his scowl at her easy use of Steven’s name. “Ah, I see your lunch is ready. I will take my leave, then, my own duty calls.” Her ruby lips pulled into a full smile – a smile that was just for Steven. “I would like to see you again, Steven Rogers. Perhaps we can join for a meal sometime, I would enjoy hearing about Midgard.”

Steven opened his mouth to reply, but Thor beat him to it, a hand coming to rest heavily atop the Omega’s shoulder. “We will be quite busy for a while, but I think neither of us would averse to indulging in a meal once things have settled.”

Ástríðr’s lips twitched – Thor doubted highly the other Alpha had intended for her invitation to be extended to him. But he was a prince and she could not point such a thing out without sounding rude. She left with brief, almost annoyed goodbye, as the barkeep brought them their soups.

Thor settled into the chair across from Steven, tearing his bread in two to dip into the thick, brothy stew. Across from him, the Omega didn’t move towards his own bowl, just watched Thor with the most careful expression he’d ever seen from him.

“Thor,” Steve began slowly, “what was that all about?”

“Hm?”

The Omega sent him a flat look. “I may be from Midgard, but somethings are cross-cultural and I’m pretty sure Alphan posturing is fairly universal.”

Thor paused, unsure himself of the possessiveness that had fueled his actions. He settled for a half-truth. “I told you in Asgard to be careful of your actions around Alphas, and you must be doubly so here. There are few Alphas in Alfheim – and fewer Omegas. You are most likely the first new one they’ve seen here in some time.”

Steve’s expression shuttered, leaning back in his seat as a look of hard understanding gleamed in his eyes. “Ah. I see.”

Thor felt bad at once, eyes dropping to stare guilty into his soup, but he did not take back his words or try to amend them, and the silence that fell between them was terse and unhappy. The warning was for Steven’s own good, the Aesir told himself, he’d garner much attention for simply being a Omega alone and he was so very pretty…it was better that he be on guard, less he wander into some unwanted Alpha’s affections.

Thor spent the rest of the meal trying to convince himself of the validity of that argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...a little bit of clothing porn, but I couldn't resist. That won't be the last we see of Ástríðr. I can't help but imagine Steve would be quite popular with the Aesir and Vanir. His personality is pretty much everything they would value in a good, moral man. Next chapter, a brief stop to Earth and the rest of the team, Jane and Sif meet, and more Thundershield goodness!


	5. A Shift in Feeling, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now though… He’d spent nearly every hour of the day (and even the night) with the Alpha-Prince by his side and Steve couldn’t help but find the older blond’s constant attention and care appealing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys! 
> 
> Un-betaed.

Clint hadn’t really meant for this to happen when he’d left the Tower, this hadn’t even remotely been what he’d been looking for. He mused quietly on the strange turn of the night as he stared up at the exposed beams of the apartment’s ceiling (illuminated nicely by a stupidly bright neon billboard), the crisp sheets – butter soft and smooth, undoubtedly of a high thread count – rested against his hips and felt wonderful against his naked cock. There was a soft murmur, the barest breaths of a sigh, and the body pressed intimately against his side twisted.

He glanced down, watching as the Omega stayed asleep but spread himself further over Clint’s chest. He was very pretty in a scruffy sort of way, somehow both muscled and tight yet still with the strange limber, slenderness that was so common with male Omegas. Clint had (perhaps stereotypically) always preferred Omegas, but it had been ages since he’d been with a male one. Long before even his marriage with Laura.

The Tower had felt too crowded tonight – even if Clint technically had half a floor to himself (he shared it with Natasha, only Tony had a whole floor to himself) – and he hadn’t seen another member of the team the entire day. He even knew Natasha was out for the evening but still, everything had felt too small.

Clint was at his heart a nomadic creature; well, as much of a nomad as a human being could be. The Alpha had spent too many years in the circus, falling sleep night after night in a different city or to the sound of the road under their caravans. So it wasn’t really that odd then that when he was stressed he liked to walk and he didn’t find it strange when he left the Tower for a ‘walk to clear his head’ and ended up nearly on the other side of Manhattan.

Stress had been everywhere over the last week, ever since Steve had been taken up to Asgard. Sif’s arrival and explanation for what the fuck was going on had both helped and added to it. It was good to know that Thor was looking after him – because if there was one thing Thor was, it was blindingly, naïvely loyal. Loki had proven that. But the idea of Steve hurt with the same type of power that had turned Clint into a killer puppet made something in his gut sour.

That fact that he cared about Steve Rogers wasn’t too surprising for Clint. He’d seen the friendship forming as it happened, recognized it for what it was, and in his own way had come to begrudgingly accept that it was going to happen whether he wanted it to or not. The Captain had a strange way of getting under your skin; there was something so earnest, so painfully fragile about him that made it almost impossible spurn his hesitant attempts for comradeship.

Natasha hadn’t been quite as prepared for the amount of concern she so obviously (well, obvious to Clint) felt when Steve went off the grid, especially once Bruce came forward and nervously revealed that the Captain may not have been in the best of mindsets for a mission. Fertility – especially having it taken from you – was something that Nat related too deeply. Natasha Romanoff was sex on legs, an almost stereotypical ideal of a sex-pot Omega, but that was where most people would have believed the Omegan traits ended.

No one would have viewed her as maternal, but something hidden inside of her had once wanted children deeply, deep enough to try and stand up against her handlers. It…hadn’t gone well.

Clint muted his sigh, fingers running lightly up and down the long line of an exposed back. He cared for his own pups with a fierceness that continued to catch him off guard, and the pride and love they evoked him were a constant reminder that not everything inside of him had shriveled and died. He’d thought he’d lost them forever after Laura had divorced him, but the Barton (no, it would be in Laura’s maiden name now, _Thomson,_ Christ) Homestead was bugged to all hell and Fury frequently sent him videos or audio clips.

The man had some measure of a heart, but it was really all about loyalty. Fury took care of his own.

He hadn’t really wanted to give Laura the divorce, but his Omega was understandably _done._ Clint missed almost everything that happen in their familial home, missed more heats then he could ever bring himself to admit, and the violent life he lead repulsed Laura on an unchangeable moral level. Clint had always been honest with her; he thought that would make it work between them. Instead it had just made her frightened and disgusted, unsure of who the Alpha she’d mated with was becoming, and being together only put his defenseless family in danger.

So he let them go.

But on nights like tonight…fuck, he missed his family.

And so he’d gone walking. He’d ended up in some bar called _Josie’s,_ a Hell’s Kitchen staple apparently. It was nothing more than a box, with wood paneling dirtied by smoke and grim, complete with sticky linoleum and a decor that seemed like it hadn’t changed in twenty years. It was Clint’s type of place.

It was crowded with locals, everything from petty criminals to hard working joes and white collars coming for a drink after work. Clint had been content to settle in his little corner and drink himself into a coma (well, as close to drunk as someone like Clint ever let himself get) when a thirty-something Omega plopped down on the stool next to him and order them both a whiskey.

_“You looked like you needed it.” The Omega offered, then paradoxically set a compressed white cane down on the bar top. The Omega downed his own whiskey before signaling for another. “It’s been a shit day and my buddy bailed on me. Mind if I drink with you? I made a promise to my old man I’d never drink alone.”_

_“It’s a free country, especially if you’re buying.” Clint said with a shrug, eyeing the blossoming bruise across the other man’s face. “You’re bad day have anything to do with why you look like you ran into a door?”_

_“Maybe I did.” He waved the white cane around, “I actually fell down some stairs taking out the trash. Hazards of being blind; someone moves something in the common space and suddenly your day’s gotten a lot more complicated.”_

_Clint snorted, eyes flickering down to the bruised and scraped knuckles clutching the empty glass, but let it go._

_“But, no. My shit day had to do with work. I’m a lawyer – well, I’m just starting my firm, so I spend a lot of time out at bars trying to scope clients.”_

_“Ah.”_

_“What? Not a fan of lawyers?”_

_“I’m divorced.”_

_A soft,_ “oh,” _then, “I can see where you might be biased. I take it your Omega had a very good lawyer.”_

_Clint shrugged, eyes running unabashedly over the other man’s face. There was something off about this Omega, something not quite right, and Clint loathed puzzles. “She didn’t take anything I wasn’t willing to give.”_

_“That’s…a different perspective. Most Alpha’s are…” The brunet trailed off, obviously trying to think of a delicate to way to express his thoughts. Clint snorted again, well aware the stereotype of ‘stupid fucking Omega-cunt taking all my money’ that existed around the breaking of an Alpha-Omega mating bond; it was an old hang-on from the sixties, just like the idea that all Omegas were only happy fat with child and surrounded by equally fat, whimpering cubs._

_“Dicks?” He supplied, lips twitching as the Omega’s face grew into a (cute) mischievous little smile._

_“That’s one way of putting it.” A gloved hand was offered, slender but deceptively powerful in his own. “Matt Murdock.”_

_“…Mike.”_

_“No last name?”_

_“For now.”_

_Matt’s head cocked to the side again, a habit that Clint was starting to realize he did when he was assessing something. “Very mysterious.”_

They ended up drinking until nearly two. Matt was surprisingly easy to talk to, a man who didn’t let his disability hinder him, and that was something that Clint could appreciate. It didn’t hurt that the brunet kept a steady supply of liquor coming. After one particular intense shot, Matt had leveled him with an earnest stare (Clint noticed that the Omega had a way of doing that, despite being blind, of just _staring_ at you) and asked him to come home with him. And Clint – Clint had agreed, despite his better judgement.

It had just been so long since he’d let himself have something like this, just… _contact._ Human touch without the background of a mission, without some ulterior motive, no Avengers-fanatic trying to get a lay from the Hawkeye. Just an Alpha and Omega, doing what they were designed to do. The fact that Matt was exactly the type of male (a dry wit and a sharp tongue, tight in all the right places and with just enough muscle that he felt like he wouldn’t break in the Alpha’s grip) that Clint went for didn’t hurt things, nor did the fact that he was apparently incredibly skilled kisser. They may have actually made the cab driver slightly uncomfortable, but they were both too ramped up on drink and mutual attraction to care. They hadn’t even made it into the apartment.

_Matt let out a whine, hip grinding back against Clint’s clothed erection. The elevator was tiny even with the two pressed intimately against each other and Matt seemingly trying to mount his covered cock. The Omega was fumbling with his dress pants and Clint snarled, hands tightening as a pale, taunt ass was revealed, glossy strings of slick attached to the boxer brief’s crotch._

_He pressed in, rolling his cock in a slow, tight circle that made Matt mew and shake. He was just drunk enough to realize that he was probably going to fuck Matt right here, in this very public elevator, and yet wasn’t so far gone to realize that this was a really fucking stupid idea._

_But it was pretty clear that the Omega needed this, needed the release, and to be frank so did Clint. He pulled his jeans down just enough to free his cock, already thick and long, swollen a ruddy purple at the tip and drooling pre-cum._

_“Condom,” he ground out, hissing as Matt shook, “fuck, do you–”_

_“Back pocket, in my wallet,” he gasped, cheek flat against the wall as both hands reached back to pull his cheeks wide, and Clint choked as the tip of his head was suddenly inside a hot, wet whole. Only years of self-control had him pulling out, ignoring the Omega’s whimper of loss, and yanked out the foil packet._

_Alpha issue, and Clint felt his cock twitch and the skin around his base begin to grow tight at the thought of Matt just carrying one of the expensive condoms around. Had he been cruising for a fuck? The drunk Alpha found that option particularly annoying, sheathing his now wrapped cock to the root._

_He started hard and fast, a hand wrapped tightly around Matt’s front, keeping the Omega pinned upright and against his chest, the angle making each thrust hit his prostate dead on. Matt was shaking apart in his arms, sunglasses lost somewhere in the chaos, unseeing eyes focused on nothing as his hips pressed back again and again – always back, never forward. It was like Matt was trying to live on his cock, pushing back even when Clint thrust in._

_“Is this what you wanted?” He growled out, voice low and wrecked in a way he hadn’t heard since the last heat he’d share with Laura, “been cruising around looking for an Alpha cock to fill you up?”_

_Matt shook his head frantically, brunet locks sweaty and sticking to Clint’s chin as the Omega rested his head against his shoulder. “Wasn’t planned, but I needed it, needed it after –”_

_The Omega cut off abruptly and Clint could hear it too – someone had called the elevator. He kept his steady thrusts, a hand curling up around Matt’s neck as his hips rocked up and up. Matt’s eyes flashed open in alarm, staring at Clint disbelief as the Alpha continued to fuck up into that wet heat, uncaring as the elevator began to ascend, a hand wrapping tightly around the Omega’s neglected cock and pumping hard. Matt let out a strangled sound, eyes squeezing shut._

_“You’re terrible.” Matt seethed, the words bitten out and almost painful sounding as Clint drove them closer to released. “God,” he gasped, body locking tightly around the Alpha’s swelling cock, “oh god, Mike–”_

_“Clint.” He corrected harshly, thrusting wild enough that the car was rocking, “my name’s Clint.”_

_There was a breathy laugh, “I knew it – oh, oh fuck –_ Clint.” _Matt whined as he came, sticky white cum spraying across the fake paneled wall and Clint wasn’t far behind him, pinning the Omega’s hips flat as he pulled just far enough out for his knot to escape. The doors slid open and there was a started gasp followed by a sharp intake of breath, and suddenly the doors were closing again, the elevator beginning to descend._

_His partner went utterly limp against him, chest heaving in loud pants that filled the entire room. Clint was no less affected, if only quieter, and grit his teeth against the smooth skin of Matt’s neck as his hips kicked up in his second orgasm. “I can’t believe we got caught,” there was a breathy laugh, “I’m so going to hear about this from the HA.”_

_Clint shrugged, honestly not giving a flying fuck how anyone felt about their elevator adventure, and carefully tucked his cock into his pants. He wouldn’t be able to zip it until his knot went down, but it would have to do. He met lazy lips in an equally lazy kiss as he worked Matt’s pants back over his hips, before running his hands up Matt’s side in a gentle pet as the kiss deepened. How long had it been since he’d been with someone like this of his own free will? There was no mission, no target that needed to be wooed. Just Clint and an Omega he found attractive._

_God, it felt good._

_In his arms Matt abruptly flinched away from the path of Clint’s left hand, breaking the kiss with a hiss. “Sorry, just – Clint, wait!” But it was too late, the Alpha had already yanked Matt’s t-shirt up, eyes narrowing at the heavy bruising and inflamed (yet stitched) cut across his ribs. “…yeah, I guess we pulled some of my stitches.”_

_“Did the stairs have a knife?”_

There was more to the story then what Matt was telling him, but Clint was hardly one to pass any judgement on that front. His life was literally nothing but lies. The Omega was covered in bruises and cuts, but still Matt was an attractive man, even with the scarring around his eyes. Clint brought his hand up to trace the burnt skin softly before trailing it down to rest against the Omega’s jaw. There was a heavy sigh against his chest, Matt’s arm twining around his waist in a loose grip, and bleary eyes blinked up at him.

For a moment the blind man just stared up at him (well, in his general direction) before letting out a jaw cracking yawn and letting his face drop back against Clint’s shoulder. “You always think so hard after one night stand?”

Clint chuckled, letting his hand curl lightly around the Omega’s neck. “Can’t sleep with the mini-sun next door.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told it’s pretty bad.” Matt said softly, fingers roaming over Clint’s chest in a slow, feeling pet. They traced over a large scar on his stomach (shrapnel, one of the many gifts of his carrier choice) before gliding up to an equally impressive one just below his breast bone.

“Hazard of my work,” Clint explained before he could ask, “I was in the military.”

There was a snort of disbelief. “No you weren’t. Nothing about you screams military. Private contracting maybe, or paramilitary?” Unseeing eyes peeked up at him from underneath his bangs, an amused twist to his lips. “You’ve got this…clandestine thing about you, very mysterious with the no last name and ‘my name is Mike.’ It’s alright, we’ve all got our secrets.”

Clint hummed noncommittedly, letting the flat of his palm rest over the extensive bruising that covered the Omega’s side. “Just like you fell down the stairs, right?”

“That would be correct.” Matt said, rising up just enough to press his lips against Clint’s. “You saw my stairs, super narrow.”

The Alpha took control immediately, rolling them so that Matt was beneath him but still mindful of his wounds, and deepened the kiss with a satisfied rumble. But the contact remained mostly chaste, the Omega limp and lax beneath him, arms wrapped loosely around his neck, and after a moment Matt pulled away, tucking his face into the crook of Clint’s neck.

He’d missed this more than he realized; the feel of a satisfied Omega underneath him, the scent of their coupling hanging faintly in the air around them. Arms wrapped tightly around his middle, pulling him even further atop Matt’s form.

“…stay? I’ve been told I make some mean French toast.”

Morning was hours away and Clint knew that he should leave, that staying for breakfast was taking this thing a step further than a one night stand. But he found he didn’t want too. Matt was intriguing, full of his own mystery. But it was the strange tender nervousness in the request, spoken into the skin of his neck that made his decision for him, and Clint nodded, rolling them back onto their sides, Matt still pressed tightly against him.

“Sure, but afterwards you’re going to let me fix you’re stitches. They look like they were done by a five year old.”

"Hey, man. I am blind."

* * *

It was late and Steve was so tired he could feel it in his bones, yet he couldn’t seem to sleep. The mammoth bed he was on was soft and firm in all the right ways, and the various furs and heavy linens kept him nice and warm, as did the flannel pajamas he’d been given. But still, he just couldn’t sleep. Perhaps it was all the excitement of the day. While he’d yet had a chance to meet Thor’s uncle, he’d been given a rather lengthy tour of Fjallguard by Thor.

The keep of Fjallgaurd was more of a castle than anything else. A huge building that looked not unlike those Steve had seen scattered throughout Bavaria, though it understandably had a far more ‘Nordic’ feel to it. The outside of it was built of a strange white crystal, so clean and crisp that it stood out even amongst the snow, reflecting the sun’s rays until it glittered. The inside of it was more rustic, with miles of white-grey marble floors that contrasted sharply with the dark wooden walls that were broken only by mosaics that would make even the most well-trained bricklayer jealous.

Huge tapestries and painted shields lined the walls, as did the stuffed animal heads and posed bones, and the windows were all inland with stained glass. It was every bit as majestic as Asgard had been and just as technologically advanced, even if it had a far more rustic and old-world feel to it. And from what little he’d seen so far technology was everywhere here, so advanced it kept up the illusion of magic.

Steve’s room – or rather _rooms_ – were bigger than anything he’d ever lived in, and that included the space Tony had given him. They were a single floor but they were twelve rooms strong. Steve didn’t even know what to do with all that space! There was a parlor right of the entry, a library-study, a living room attached to a dining area, a room that Steve wasn’t quite sure what it was for but had a whole bunch of art and statues that he was too afraid to touch in case he broke something, and _three_ guest rooms, each with their own bathrooms.

When would Steve need guest rooms? He was the guest! Thor had simply laughed when he’d questioned it, shaking his head.

Steve’s personal bathroom was huge, with its own sauna in addition to a shower and a bath Steve could practically swim in. He had a massive bedroom centered around an equally massive fire pit that several plush chairs and sofas encircled, with _two_ huge amours filled to the brim with silks and velvets, thick padded cotton and tightly woven linen, supple leathers and plush furs, all in of various blues, silver-greys, and white.

Steve had stared at Thor suspiciously when he’d realized that they were all in his size, but the Alpha just shrugged. There was also a jewelry box, three tiered, filled with decorative brooches and rings. Steve didn’t really wear jewelry and he told Thor as much. He noticed that many of the Vanir wore a lot of jewelry and worried that he may be seen as ungrateful if he chose not to wear any of the pieces.

Thor had assured him that it was fine, though there was one item that Steve would need to wear daily while here. The Alpha had pulled out a silver signet ring, the emblem one of a stylized boar head inlaid with precious jewels, and the band bore a long stream of runes. It was the symbol of the Royal House of Alfheim, King Freyr’s personal standard, and it indicated that Steve was ward of the King’s House. Thor had explained that it will give him more protection and leeway amongst the population, though he was quick to assure that Steve wouldn’t really need it.

 _“So this signet ring shows what, that I’m important?”_ The Omega had asked, not quite liking the idea of being set apart so easily. He’d never enjoyed being singled out, even if he’d spent nearly the entirety of his time after the serum in the spotlight.

 _“To put it simply, yes. My uncle has claimed you as a ward of his house. It is not a position to be taken lightly. Outside of the royal family – there is my cousin Fj_ _ölnir, who you shall meet later, and the Lady Queen Gerðr, besides the King himself – there is none considered higher than yourself in court.”_ The Alpha had gestured towards the wardrobes, _“some of this will be innately known by the colors you wear; blue and silver are the standards of King Freyr and only those of his household may wear it. It is similar to why I dressed you solely red while in Asgard; scarlet is one of the colors of my house, but your clothing doesn’t designate your social standing.”_

The ring felt oddly heavy on Steve’s forefinger, but he supposed it would be something he’d get used to. Everything felt a bit much, standing in his oversized apartments, clad in the colors of a family that wasn’t his, wearing a ring that denoted him the upper echelons of a culture that he couldn’t even begin to comprehend and had no desire to be a part of. Sighing, the Omega gave up on sleep and kicked himself free of the covers. A shock of cold shot up his spine as his feet touched bare stone and Steve took a moment to nudge his feet into a pair of waiting slippers before shuffling over towards the fireplace. The fire was still going merrily, the heat and crackle of it a strange contrast to the roaring storm taking place outside. The force fields protected the keep and town from the worst of it, but the sound of the storm against them echoed loudly across the city.

A flash of red caught his attention and Steve padded over to where Thor’s cloak was resting over the back of one of his bedroom’s sitting rooms. He fingered the thick material, brows furrowed. It was odd, Steve supposed, sleeping alone. He'd always enjoyed sleeping in a group and had almost had the chance to do so. Growing up it had been Bucky or the other orphans, in the war his men, and over the past week he’d gotten used to falling asleep to the sound of Thor’s snoring. Steve brought the cloak up, fingers still moving over the wool, and on impulse brought it up and took a deep inhale of the Alpha’s scent.

Instantly he brought the cloak down, embarrassed and unsure of himself, but the damage had been done; Thor’s unique scent filled his nose and lungs. Steve was torn between shoving the cloak away and drawing it closer. Thor’s scent had always been so strong, so odd and unlike any other Alpha’s, and while Steve had noticed that all of the Aesir and Vanir seemed to have equally strong personal scents, none of them made Steve’s stomach twist as Thor’s did. Steve wasn’t totally blind to the physical attraction he had to Thor, he’d been aware of it from the moment Thor had arrived during Loki’s attacks. But the two had never really spent any real time together; Thor had left for Asgard shortly after the Battle of New York and the Avengers hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him for nearly a year.

Now though… he’d spent nearly every hour of the day (and even the night) with the Alpha-Prince by his side and Steve couldn’t help but find the older blond’s constant attention and care appealing. It had been so long since anyone had even remotely tried to take care of him. After the serum, no one seemed to think that Steve needed it and for the most part he didn’t. Steve was proud that he was an independent Omega, that he didn’t need a Alpha or Beta partner to care for him, but he couldn’t deny the small bursts of shy pleasure he felt each time Thor did something in his sweet, archaic, chivalrous way. And Thor was always touching; guiding Steve by the small of his back, resting his hand on his shoulder _just_ close enough to his neck to make the Omega heart leap, even going so far as to lead him by his hand earlier during the tour when Steve had been so taken by the artwork that he’d started to lag behind.

After a moment of hesitation, the Omega brought fabric up to his face once more, eyes closing as he took as he scented it. Nothing could come of whatever it was he felt for Thor; the Alpha was practically mated to Jane Foster, and Steve had no desire to be a homewrecker. Still he brought the cloak over to the plush chair closest to the fire, wrapping it around himself as he curled up on it, watching drowsily as the fire ate its way through the wood.

* * *

Thor was in the midst of pulling his hair back, a leather tie between his teeth, when he approached the door to Steven’s apartment. A servant stood outside, looking nervous as he held a tray of breakfast.

“Good morning,” he greeted, chuckling when the young man nearly jumped out of his skin.

“G-Good morning, milord!”

“Is that for Steven?” Thor asked, leaning forward to pull up various lids and peak at what was inside. The Omega reddened, hands shaking slightly, but Thor ignored the reaction. He was used to Betas and Omegas (and sometimes other Alphas) alike reacting to his presence in such a manner.

“It is, milord, but Lord Rogers must still be asleep, he hasn’t responded to the door.”

“Ah, I see.” Thor took the tray, “I’ll deliver it then, thank you.”

Thor was the only other person besides Steven included in the door’s security and it opened immediately for him. Thor headed straight back for Steven’s room, hoping he wouldn’t surprise the Omega to badly, and he pushed the door open with his elbow, a greeting on his lips – and stilled at the sight of the blond fast asleep in a chair. The position couldn’t have possibly been comfortable as Steven was curled up in a small ball to fit completely upon it, yet he was sleeping quite soundly. In Thor's cloak, which Thor hadn’t even realized he’d left the other night. Steven’s face was partially hidden in its folds, the fabric wrapped tightly around him, and the sight of it – the idea that the Omega had sought out his scent – made Thor’s hands tightening around the metal tray.

When Thor had laid himself down last night, he’d tossed and turned for quite a while, and it took him far longer than it should have for him to realize that his trouble sleeping was due to the absence of the soft, breathy sounds of Steven sleeping a few feet away. The idea that Steven may have felt the same way was…Thor stopped that thought where it was, moving soundless across the room as he set the tray down on the coffee table. He reached out, fingers hesitating for a fraction of a second, before gently reaching out to brush Steven’s bangs from his brow, fingertips lingering on the soft skin of the Omega’s forehead. Steven shifted, expression twitching to wakefulness, and Thor stepped back abruptly, putting an appropriate amount of space between them.

Steve uncurled as he woke, rubbing at his eyes, then froze as he caught sight of Thor, face reddening as he scrambled to his feet. “Thor! Oh, uh, you left this here last night.”

“Keep it,” Thor insisted, pushing the offered cloak back into Steven’s arms, “I would much rather you have it, if it...I know this past week has been difficult and I, that is, I wish to do anything I can to make it less…if my scent brings you any manner of comfort, no matter how small.”

By the Allfather, he had not such difficultly talking to an Omega since he was a much younger man and Thor almost groaned at his stumbling reply.

“I…” Steven’s face grew even redder, the Omega studiously studding his slippered feet. “It does.”

Strangely, those simply words made the awkward weight in Thor’s chest lighten and he gave his friend a wide grin as he pushed the breakfast tray closer. “I’m glad. Now eat up, then I shall help you pick something to wear. We have a busy day a head of us."

* * *

Pepper Potts looked like a goddess draped across Natasha’s silk sheets, strawberry blond hair pulled up in a high ponytail, naked back a length of clean lines that lead down to a firm ass encased in equally firm and tight lace panties. From where she stood in the door way, a cup of tea in each hand, Natasha took a long moment to just look.

She and Pepper were only a handful of months into their relationship, in fact until Natasha had invited her out for drinks and spent a rather indecent amount of time in the restroom, her fingers shoved up in a tight, wet cunt, Pepper had never been with another Omega. The idea of that filled her with no small amount of possessive satisfaction.

Natasha rarely took things for her own, but when she did – when she did, she didn’t let them go easily. They’d spent the night in, which had mostly consisted of the two of them watching old movies while they painted each other’s toenails. It was low key, actually sort of a dull night, but it had been what Pepper needed.

Perhaps it was what Natasha needed too.

Steve’s absence was distressing to everyone. Natasha respected the other Omega, something which was hard to earn, and it may or may not have been tempered with no small amount of pity. No one had experienced what Steve had; orphaned, starving through the Great Depression, before fighting in the World War, and then waking up to a world he couldn’t understand.

She set the teas down on the table, kneeling on the bed before leaning down to press a kiss to Pepper’s ankle. The other Omega froze before relaxing, legs parting slightly. “You’re distracted tonight.”

“It’s nothing,” her girlfriend said too quickly. Natasha sighed, physically flipping her over onto her back before settling between her legs. She ran her hands up Pepper’s taunt belly, hands resting just below the curve of her breasts, thumbs stroking the swell.

“You’re worried about Tony.” Pepper looked away, biting her bottom lip.

“I don’t still care about him. I mean, I do, of course I do! I’ve worked for the man – worked, I practically _kept_ him alive – do you know he forgets to eat, like for _days?_ – for five years.” The blonde sighed, carding her hands through Natasha’s curls before letting them trail down to cup her face. “But, I mean I don’t still love him. Romantically, I mean.”

“I know.”

There was a relieved-annoyed laugh. “Of course you do. Dumb spies.” Her expression drooped. “It’s just…since I left there’s been no one. It’s been almost two years and he hasn’t tried another serious relationship.”

“You’re talking about Bruce.” Natasha cut in, leaning back on her heels as her hands dug in, stroking harder before sliding down again.

“I…yes, I am. What if he’s not moving forward with Bruce because of what happened with us? Tony doesn’t take rejection well and anyone can see that Bruce shares his interest. I just…” Another heavy sigh. “I hate to think that I’m the one who actually broke Tony Stark. And now with Steve – I can’t stand the idea of him just sitting in that tiny room, getting drunk off his ass. Alone.”

Natasha hummed as she pressed a kiss just above Pepper’s naval. “Have faith in Dr. Banner. Bruce is a mother hen at heart, he won’t let Tony fall too far.”

“I’m sure you’re right, it’s just –” She interrupted herself with a gasp, legs spreading wider as Natasha pressed a bite to her inner thigh. “ – want him to be happy. If he can – _Nat.”_

She pressed an open mouthed kiss against her pussy, mouthing the swollen lips and clit through the fabric, allowing her hot breath to push against it. She ran her tongue over it, lapping greedily until the fabric began to grow damp, before pulling away. She sent the other Omega a sharkish smile, pulling the underwear down completely. She ran her fingers down the downy soft pubic hair, before dipping below to play with the wetting folds.

“I’ll talk to Bruce. Now, no more talk about Tony Stark. You’re thinking too much, darling.” Natasha slipped a finger in, watching greedily as Pepper arched into the touch, breasts thrusting upwards deliciously. “Allow me to help you with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have two more of our couples. I love the idea of Clint/Matt, btw.


	6. A Shift in Feeling, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor’s hand had slid from his waist to his lower back in support, but did not move. Neither did Steve. Why…why weren’t either of them moving? Steve felt locked in place, slightly unsteady – dizzy almost – and his breath felt all at once too quick and too slow. Thor’s grip on his hand tightened minutely, the one on his back spreading wide, pressing Steve even closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I’m looking for a ship name for Clint Barton/Matt Murdock since one doesn’t seem to exist. If it does exist, let me know so I can use it! So far the only two I came up with that I like are: Devilhawk/Devil’s Hawk or Devil’s Eye/Devil’s Eye. What do you guy’s think?
> 
> Un-betaed.
> 
> Also, I’m looking for art which has been awoken by the wonderful EstherCloyse, who made me an awesome picture. It's back in the chapter that describes Steve's outfit if you wanna take a look. If you commission, tell me what I need to do to get that done. My money situation is a little rough (thanks grad school), but I’m always down to write a nice one-shot of your choice.

Fjallgaurd was really a very pretty home (could something this size be called a home?) Steve mused as he walked through the snow covered grounds of the Royal Gardens. The Gardens were huge, so large that Steve thought they qualified more for the title of grounds than anything else. They were extensive, containing everything from small, free-flowing gardens, to small ponds and huge lakes – all frozen over, to more traditional French and English style gardens, to a huge winter-green forest and fields.

Steve had gotten lost, oh, about a half hour ago, but the Omega hardly cared. It just felt so good to be outside and _alone._ While he’d been overwhelmed at first at the size of his room, as the past two weeks had passed Steve was grateful for them, as it seemed he hardly ever left them. He knew that Thor felt guilty about his pseudo-imprisonment, but there was little that could be done with the Aether still simmering inside of Steve.

Thor had been called back to Asgard to aid in something administrative, paper-work or something the likes that he needed to sign that had built up in his absence, but before he’d left he’d shown Steve the gardens. The Alpha had fussed over him, adjusting and readjusting Steve’s cloak, asking twice if his hands and gloves felt warm enough, before re-tying his scarf tight around his throat and tucking the ends into the thick, fur lined gambeson.

While Thor’s care this morning was kind of extreme, it was hardly out of the realm of Thor’s normal actions around Steve. The Omega didn’t know if that was just Thor’s personality – that he was just that much of a mother hen – or if it was because Steve was his friend and sick. He took it in good nature, grinning at the ridiculous that was his life as he stood still, allowing the Alpha Prince of Asgard given him a once, twice, _thrice_ over, before leaving and releasing him into the gardens.

Normally Steve’s day was pretty regimented. He woke just after dawn and had breakfast with Thor before his tutor, Dúsi, arrived. Dúsi was a good natured Beta, somewhat older than Thor, who had been hired to tutor Steve not on Vanir and Aesir culture, but to help him come to grasp with some of the technology he was surrounded with. There was a break in the middle for a snack (which in Steve’s world, was a large meal in itself), then lunch, then onto the Healing Wing of the keep, where a regiment of healers, scientists, and some priestly-class that Steve could think of no other word to describe other than _magicians,_ looked him over.

It was the worst part of his day and Steve hated it. It made him feel less then human, constantly being poked and prodded as test after test was run on him, and he’d lost gallons of blood to their labs. The first three days had been hell, leaving Steve exhausted after he’d left. It was horrible to feel like such a lab rat, even if those that were studying him were polite – cold – but polite, and during the extent of his stay there he’d had nothing but his – sometimes dark – thoughts to occupy him.

It seemed as if his misery had been noted, because of the fourth day Thor had joined him on his visit, sitting at his bed side for the entirety of the visit. The Alpha’s soothing presence had been incredibly welcomed, always quick with a joke or some epic tale to keep Steve’s mind off of the tests being run and what they could mean for him and the Aether inside of him. The next day had been the same, as had the day after, until both Steve and those studying him had come to expect Thor’s bulky form waiting next to his bed.

Evening found themselves in Thor’s quarters – if only so that Steve could get out of his own – and they shared an impressively sized, multi-course dinner. Thor had explained that normally they’d be eating in the main hall with the rest of the court, but his uncle and his policymakers were in seclusion until an important trade deal had been worked out with the local guild-clans, which Steve had come to understand was something similar to a union. Honestly, Steve didn’t mind.

Sure, he would love to spend some more time outside of the wing of the castle that he and Thor’s rooms were located in, but he was kind of intimidated by the idea of eating in front of some many people he didn’t know, especially as he had barely touched the surface of Vanir etiquette in his classes. There was a huge ball planned at the end of next week to formally welcome Steve to Fjallguard, and the Omega found the idea of it – or rather the _dance_ portion of it – kind of terrifying. Thor found his reluctance humorous for some reason, stating that if Steve could fight in a war and lead the Battle of New York, he could handle a few courtiers. Steve disagreed.

Being outside was welcomed, as was the day away from his tutor and the healers, both of which Thor had arranged for him. The Alpha seemed aware of Steve’s growing frustration with being cooped up. The healers were working hard to clear him for even the most basic of exercises – like running, which Steve was pushing hard for – because if he didn’t get a chance to work out soon he was going to _lose his mind_. He was not an idle creature, and this was the longest he’d gone without working out since before the serum.

It felt good to feel the crisp air on his face as he stretched his legs, walking for hours. Every now and then he’d take a small break, drinking that same apple mead that Thor had been giving him since he’d arrived in the other worlds. He had two different flasks on him – again, Thor’s insistence – but he was going through it kind of fast, so he could agree that the Alpha’s caution was correct. It was wonderful being alone, something that was a rarity in Steve’s life now, but the Omega was surprised to find that he kind of missed Thor.

Over the past two and half weeks, they’d become pretty good friends. Their personalities were just compatible; both easy-going men, soldiers shaped by war and death, with a strong sense of fidelity to country, family, and friends. He was rarely negative and always pushed Steve to think of the positive of any given situation, his good will and kind words buffeting the Omega whenever his spirits began to wane. And yet he understood the melancholic moods that sometimes took Steve, when the memories of war and long-dead friends got to be just too much.

It was rare that Steve found someone like that, Thor was just… _steady._

The two hadn’t spoken about the ‘cloak incident’ (as Steve had taken to calling it in his mind), but after that first morning, Steve had begun to notice that Thor would leave whatever he’d worn that day – a cloak, a wrap or cape – draped over that same chair, and the Omega would try to ignore the burn to his face as he curled up with the scent-soaked thing each night.

It didn’t mean anything.                    

Thor was his only companion here, someone who he spent near constant contact with and was his only real social outlet. Given that Thor was an Alpha, it was hardly surprising that Steve took comfort in his scent. Sure, it wasn’t as common to see such things among friends, but it wasn’t unheard of either.

It didn’t mean…it didn’t have to mean anything more than that.

He’d been outside for the better part of the day and Steve knew that the servants would be concerned if he didn’t show soon for lunch. They, like all of the staff that interacted with Steve directly, had been briefed on his ‘special health needs,’ even if they hadn’t been told why he had so many. What’s more, Steve knew that Thor knew about it and then Steve would never hear the end of it.

But…well, Steve kind had no idea where the hell he was. He’d been walking for the last hour and so towards the Keep, keeping the giant building centered in his view, but kept encountering various towering hedge and stone walls, and in one case a huge lake, and had to re-route. He was eyeing a low wall, debating about whether or not to climb over it and cut across the pasture to the other side rather than go around it, when a voice called out to him.

“I wouldn’t do that, my boy. Not unless you think you can outrun a full-grown barrow.” Steve froze mid-climb, aware how guilty he looked as his head served around trying to find the source of the voice. It was an old man, with long white hair in a thick braid that nearly touched the icy-packed ground, leaning heavily on a walking stick, with a tunic hanging loosely over his shoulder, and looked incredibly amused, wrinkled face twisted in a sharp smile. “Boars are quite nasty this time of year. Very protective of their sows; it’s prime breeding season.”

“Oh.” The Omega said stupidly, sliding down from the wall. “Um, thanks, I mean.”

The old man – a Alpha, if Steve’s nose was correct – chuckled before slowly hobbling forward. Steve immediately shot forward when he stumbled on a block of ice, catching the older Alpha’s elbow and guiding him towards where a fallen tree formed a natural bench.

“Are you alright, sir? Would you like something to drink?” Steve immediately pulled a flask free, offering it. “It’s apple-honey mead, I think. It’s really good.”

“No thank you, my dear.” The Alpha said, patting his arm. “A good sit is all I need, though I wouldn’t say no to company.”

“Oh, of course.” Steve said, shifting slightly before just plopping onto the ground at the elderly man’s feet. When Steve had been growing up, sitting at the feet of your elder was the polite thing to do. He had no idea if that was what you were supposed to do with Vanir (the man had no beard, which almost always meant that he was a member of the Vanir and not the Asgard, who always had some sort of facial hair) and while the move earned him a raised eyebrow, the other man said nothing.

“I take it you are the young Omega that has the servants in an uproar.”

“Excuse me?” Steve blurted out, honestly startled.

There was another series of chuckles. “You are the first new Omega we’ve had in Fjallgaurd or the city in many years. The secretively in which you are being kept has not aided in silencing any wagging tongues.”

_Being held?_

Steve wasn’t _being held,_ except he kind of was. The Omega glanced away, biting his tongue to stop the reflexive – and somewhat rude – response that was there. “It wasn’t purposeful. There’s a ball, a dance, this week. They’ll get to see me then, I guess.”

The elder Alpha let out a hum, “and are you excited? To have a grand ball in your honor is no small thing, Lord Rogers.”

“Please, call me Steve.” He corrected around a wince; he was never going to get used to ‘Lord Rogers.’

“As you wish. You may call me Njörðr, or simply Grandfather Njör, if you wish.”

“Grandfather Njör,” Steve said quickly, “if you don’t mind, I’m still kind of struggling with my pronunciation. And well, not really? I don’t know any of your dances – I could barely dance back home!”

“I had forgotten with the sight of you in our clothing, but you are from Midgard, are you not?” Njörðr said, leaning forward against his knees to observe Steve (he was _really_ tall, Steve had noticed it before but it was all that more evident when he was perched over him like this). “You wear our styles quite well, Steve. I can understand all the twittering about you.”

Steve’s face erupted into a blush, one so strong he could feel it spread up his neck and to his ears, and he brought a hand up to rub at his neck, embarrassed.

“Ah, I’ve made you uncomfortable. Forgive an old man. Come now, tell me of your world. I heard that Midgard has changed much since I last visited it.”

“When did you last visit?” Steve asked, interest perked. He loved hearing about when Aesir and Vanir walked amongst humans on earth, and the idea that they’d once been worshipped as living gods was amazing.

“Hm, I believe it was shortly after Erik the Red had founded Greenland.”

Steve blanched. “Yeah, we’re…we’re a lot different. More advanced in – well, everything. What would you like to know?”

The conversation that followed was awkward at the beginning, though Njörðr’s kind words and patience made Steve relax the longer they talked, until the Omega was sprawled out in front of him, legs stretched on either side of the elder Alpha, talking animatedly with his hands about the Renaissance art movements and just how important the idea of symmetry really was. Njörðr listened attentively, that small smile still on his face, and Steve couldn’t help but find the elder Vanir disarming.

“Grandfather,” a voice called out, interrupting Steve mid-sentence, and the Omega craned his head over his shoulder, wide-eyed, at the sight of a young Alpha-male leaning against the railing, bare-chested and sweaty, “so this why you never came to help me! How often must I tell you to leave the Omegas _alone,_ dirty old man.”

[Jöl ](http://betahimetsukiko.deviantart.com/art/Fjolmir-Jol-Freyrson-575091677?ga_submit_new=10%253A1448770199)by [EstherCloyse](http://betahimetsukiko.deviantart.com/)

Steve turned a bright red, suddenly overly aware of his position in front of the older Alpha, of how his hips were spread wide and – he immediately readjusted himself, pulling his legs in.

“Oh, hush, Jöl, the young man and I were just having a conversation about his homeworld.” Njörðr threw the tunic at the young Alpha, “you’re the one being indecent. Stop acting like you’ve been raised in a barn. Your mother would be appalled.”

“I _was_ raised in barn,” Jöl snarked back as he pulled the tunic on, climbing easily over the fence, “or did you think the King’s herd just raised itself.”

Steve stood as the Alpha approached, offering his hand before remember they didn’t do that here and altering the move into a strong hold on the other’s forearm. “Hello, I’m Steve Rogers – please, just–”

“– call him, Steve.” Njörðr parroted alongside him, chuckling. “Our guest is quite unused to titles.”

“I’m not noble or royalty at home,” Steve explained, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “just a soldier.”

“A captain.” Njörðr corrected.

“And I’ve hardly met a soldier that is simply ‘just,’ my friend, especially not one who has won the friendship of Thor Harðhugaðr. Well met, Steve.” Jöl greeted, a wide smile on his face. His grip was strong and his hands calloused, and he towered over Steve by at least a foot. He was as incredibly handsome, deeply tan with bright grey eyes and dark brown hair pulled back in loose braids. “I hope my grandfather hasn’t been bothering you.”

“No, I enjoyed our conversation.” Steve assured, still quite awkward about the whole thing. “Honestly, I’m glad I ran into him. I’ve been walking the Gardens for hours and I haven’t seen another soul.”

Jöl’s smile grew. “Yes, the grounds here are quite large here. We value our privacy.” The Alpha still hadn’t let his go of his hand, giving his forearm another tight squeeze before finally letting it drop. “I hope you enjoyed what you saw. Fjallgaurd’s gardens are considered the most beautiful, outpacing even Asgard’s.”

“It’s stunning here,” Steve admitted, letting the tension in his shoulders relax. Jöl seemed as harmless as his grandfather, all jokes aside, “I’ve never seen so many different types of gardens. Growing up here would have been amazing – it’s like you have a private forest to explore all to yourself. I know I would have loved it. I grew up in a big city. Well, we had Central Park, but it’s nothing like this.”

“My grandson is the head hunter and groundskeeper of the King’s lands. Well, he is a warrior as well, but his renowned mostly accompanies his prowess as a hunter. He is also responsible for the care of the King’s private drift of boars.” Njörðr explained, pride evident in every inch of his voice. “As you must have already figured out for yourself Jöl, Steve is the Omega-ward of the King, the one the ball this weekend is for. He’s quite concerned as he knows none of our dances; be a good boy and show him a basic waltz.”

Both younger men objected at the same moment.

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly impose –”

“Grandfather, I smell heavily of pig, surely –”

They both halted at the sound of the other and Steve found the matching blush on Jöl’s face adorable despite himself. Njörðr just waved their complaints off. “Come now. You need to learn this, do you not Steve? And I believe you were always quite _proud_ of the boar-smell, were you not? Or did you not tell your mother just a few days ago that you enjoyed it so much that a bath was not necessary.”

 _“Grandfather,”_ Jöl groaned, bringing a hand up to his face as his blush grew stronger, “you know that had nothing to do with the smell and more with annoying Mother.” Steve laughed at that despite himself, barely biting back the hearty sound behind his hand, and Jöl’s grinned returned at the sound. “Well, I suppose it can’t be helped. He won’t stop until he’s gotten what he wants,” Jöl said with a dramatic sigh. “Shall we?”

Steve hesitated, but one look at Njörðr’s smiling face had him stepping forward. The sound of his name being called halted his cautious approach. Steve’s head turned towards the sound; that sounded like Thor – but he wasn’t supposed to be back until later that evening, before glancing down at his wrist. The band there was multipurpose, but Steve mainly used it for a watch. He tapped it and felt his eyes widen at the late time.

“Oh shi – I mean, crap. Sorry, I have to go. I was expected back at the Keep hours ago.” Steve rambled, turning and scooping up the flasks and securing them quickly. “I am so sorry to just leave, but –”

“Go if you need, lad.” Njörðr said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Will you be able to find your way? Perhaps Jöl should take you.”

“Of course I can,” Jöl agreed, offering his arm. Steve took it, letting the Alpha lead him around a few curves and bends, hoping that Thor wasn’t upset or anything. Having the only person here he could really talk to mad at him was not something Steve wanted. Jöl lead him to paved path before stopping. “I still have much work with the boars, but if you follow this path it should take you to where you need.” Steve opened his mouth to thank the Alpha, but almost choked on the sound when the Alpha bent low, bringing Steve’s hand to his mouth in a feather-light contact. When Jöl pulled away, he grin was sharp at the Omega’s open-mouthed stare. “I hope to see you again, Steve. You can always find me here – if you still wish to learn how to dance. Just ask for the way to the boar yard.”

“I – yeah. I can do that,” and then winced at his own ineloquence. There was another call of his name, louder and slightly more worried, and Steve broke himself out of his dumbfounded stare and hurried towards it. He caught sight of a familiar broad form a few minutes later and called out to his friend, shaking his head at the way that Thor jerked abruptly around, the creases of his face soothing in relief.

Steve understood that he was weak, that the Aether made him incredibly vulnerable, but he’d never done well with being treated like something fragile. Not even when he’d been younger and even more sickly then he was now. But Steve could hardly fault the Alpha for being _too_ concerned about him.

“Steven.” Thor greeted, hands reaching out to fix where Steve’s cloak had become loose around his neck seemingly on instinct. “You’ve got the servants in an uproar, no one’s seen you since we left this morning.”

“Just the servants?” Steve teased as he pushed Thor’s worrying hands away.

The Alpha looked sheepish for a moment. “Forgive me if I hover, Steven. You know you’re unwell, and so much of our stay here rides on being able to keep you hale enough to resist the Aether.”

Steve instantly felt bad. “No, that’s not – I wasn’t being serious, Thor. All of this fuss, it’s just not my thing, you know? Growing up I had no one to look after me but myself or Buck, and – I just don’t know how to handle all this constant attention. Everyone’s so concerned with when I eat, how long I’m sleeping – do you know they want me to start journaling when I go to the _bathroom?_

I’m just so frustrated; I hardly have a moment to myself and when you left me here this morning I just couldn’t help myself. It felt so nice to have some privacy! And I can’t even get any training in – at this rate I’m going to be useless the next time I need to fight. And I’m trying to learn everything I can, but I feel like I’m always making a giant boob of myself whenever I interact with anyone, and now there’s a ball – a _ball,_ Thor! We don’t really have those in Brooklyn, you know! I don’t even know how to dance, and I still get confused on which of the thousand forks you insist on using I’m supposed to use first and –”

Steve puttered out abruptly, aware all at once that he’d been rambling _loudly_ at Thor. The Alpha was just staring at him, wide-eyed, both hands lifted in an aborted movement.

“Thor, I–”

“No, my friend,” Thor soothed, voice as gentle as if he was speaking to a spoked horse, “it’s quite alright. Nothing that you feel is unwarranted, especially for someone like yourself. You’re used to commanding men, to leading armies, to be swaddled so is understandably upsetting. I only wish you would share your concerns with me instead of letting it bottle up so much.”

“I don’t like to seem like I’m complaining.” Steve admitted slowly, staring down at his booted feet. There was the touch of warm leather against his cheek and the Omega glanced up to find Thor watching him carefully, the touch increasing as Thor’s fingers skidded over his cheek before brushing his hair behind his ear.

“You have been put in an unfair situation, Steven. If you didn’t have some complaints, then I would be concerned.” Steve nodded, mouth dry as the touch lingered for a moment before dropping away. “I will speak with your medical team about allowing you to exercise tomorrow. As for the…journaling…I’m afraid you’re on your own there. The Healers can be quite demanding when they wish it. But I can teach you how to dance, if you like.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head at Thor’s confused expression. “Sorry, it’s just – you’re the second person to offer me that today.”

“The second?”

“Yes, I met a nice Alpha named Jöl and his grandfather earlier. He offered to show me a waltz.”

Something flashed across Thor’s face, his smile faltering slightly before evening out. “I take it you did not accept then? Well,” Thor stepped back, giving a low bow before offering in hand, "shall I show you then?”

“Here? Now?”

“Why not?” Thor asked, gesturing to the empty grounds. “It’s just you and I, and I find the fresh air quite agreeable.”

“Well,” Steve shrugged, slipping his hand into Thor’s waiting hand, “why not? I guess.”

Thor grinned and Steve gasped as he was pulled closer, until his body was inches from Thor’s. His hand was guided to Thor’s shoulder before it dropped down to rest against his hip. “As an Omega, you’ll almost never have to lead. Not unless you’re dancing with a female Omega, but Omegas hardly ever dance together.” Thor explained as his hand flexed against Steve’s hip bone. “Not because Omega-Omega pairings are frowned upon, they’re just quite rare. As an Alpha, I lead.”

Thor began to hum under his breath, something light and floaty and somehow very classical despite the fact that it was hummed, as they began to move. Thor took a step to the side and Steve craned his head down to watch their feet, his forehead a scant few inches from Thor’s collar bone, brows furrowed as he followed Thor’s instructions. It was much like a fancier version of a box waltz, something the nuns had tried – and failed – to teach both Bucky and Steve back in the orphanage.

When Thor took a step to the side, Steve did the same. When Thor stepped forward, Steve stepped back and when he stepped back, Steve followed. The difference came in how wide the steps were, in how it made them slowly circle each other and a much larger sphere as well. After a few moments of just this (and when Steve felt comfortable enough to finally glance from their feet) the Alpha began to add other moves, swirling them around at a faster pace, their steps wider and covering more ground.

Steve gasped as Thor suddenly swung him away, the Omega doing a strange ballerina-esque move on instinct to maintain his balance, before he was suddenly be swung back in. The move was unexpected and he gripped tightly onto both Thor’s hand and down-filled vest to steady himself, leaving him pressed intimately against the Alpha’s warm form. Thor’s humming had stopped abruptly, blue eyes locked in a muteless stare.

Thor’s hand had slid from his waist to his lower back in support, but did not move. Neither did Steve. Why…why weren’t either of them moving? Steve felt locked in place, slightly unsteady – dizzy almost – and his breath felt all at once too quick and too slow. Thor’s grip on his hand tightened minutely, the one on his back spreading wide, pressing Steve even closer.

The Omega felt overwhelmed by Thor’s potent scent – so familiar, so _Alpha._ They were standing so close, close enough that he could feel each heated exhale against his cheeks, and Steve felt lust swell hotly in his hips as Thor’s nostrils flared, his pupils dilating, and his breath hitched at the idea of Thor scenting him. What did he smell like to the Alpha? Did he seek it out, like Steve did with his? Did he – did he like it?

Steve felt his eyes blow wide in horrified realization at not only where his thoughts had gone – about an Alpha who he called friend, who loved _another_ – but at the telltale feel of the clench of his hole, at the threat of slick that accompanied it – and pulled away quickly, raising a quivering hand to wipe at his mouth.

What was he _thinking?_

Thor had Jane. His friend was only trying to help him accumulate himself to his new culture and here Steve was, practically drooling over him. No fleeting attraction (and it had to be fleeting, it had to be) was worth ruining what seemed to be a promising, fruitful friendship. If Bruce and Tony were right and Steve was facing several thousand years until he died – well, the Omega wasn’t willing to jeopardize any friendship with someone else who may remotely hold the same lifespan as himself.

“I’m hungry.” He said to break the strained silence that surrounded them and he didn’t dare glance back at the Alpha. “I probably need to eat. The mead helped, but it’s almost out and…”

Steve faded off, but Thor was suddenly there, taking him by the elbow as he led him determinedly towards the Keep. “Then we shall eat.”

The rest of the day was strained, filled with the heavy weight of what had happened in the Garden. Or maybe it wasn’t, maybe it was only Steve that was affected so, because Thor seemed like his normal, cheery self, if only just a bit quieter. He knew things were different when the Alpha had offered to eat dinner in Steve’s rooms instead of his own. Steve gratefully accepted, too off balanced by what had happened earlier to even think about facing Thor’s rooms, which would be drenched in the Alpha’s scent.

Dinner had been quiet, but not unfriendly, and the whole thing made Steve feel even worse about it all. Thor was such a good friend, he was obviously trying to make the Omega feel comfortable again, and it made Steve’s uncontrollable skittishness around him all that worse. Thor retired early for the night, for which Steve was stupidly grateful.

The Omega lay in his bed – wide awake and well aware of just how early his morning truly was – mind still back in the gardens, with the strange bundle of attraction and fear and _lust_ that had come with the feel of Thor’s hands on him, of the Alpha’s warmth surrounding him, just as his scent had…

He let out a frustrated sigh before reaching for a decorative pillow, throwing it with all his strength across the room. He fisted his hands tightly, breathing heavily out of his nose before glancing down at his very hard cock. Licking his lips, Steve gave in, groaning as he ran his hand over the harden flesh, hips jerking into the touch. He fell back against the bed, legs spreading and knees bending as he gripped himself through his pajamas, pumping himself with the silken fabric.

Steve whined, squirming and shifting until he’d worked his bottoms off. He hadn’t touched himself since before he’d left Earth and his cock showed it in its dark red tip, the potent-less cum of an Omega already dripping down his length. He worked himself without mercy, hips rising to fuck up into his tight grip, and Steve whimpered, the sound obscenely loud in the small space.

His head thrashed to the side when he finally let himself finger his slit – a move that always brought him to the brink – and felt a huge spurt of pre-cum escape him at the sight of the cloak Thor had worn today, left behind for him as always despite everything, resting just a few inches from him on the bed. He bit his lip before deciding _fuck it,_ no one ever had to know, and dragged it over to his face. He inhaled deeply, hips fucking up violently at the rich scent. The Omega rolled, trapping the fabric beneath him as hands rushing frantically back to his sopping hole, sinking two fingers on each hand in without hesitation.

Thor’s scent seemed to surround him, making him feel lightheaded and his holes to leak even more readily, and Steve ground his cock against the up-raised fabric of the wool, fingers fucking himself frantically. The edge reached him quickly after so long of absence, hurried along by an Alpha’s scent, and Steve bit into his pillow as he cried out, spending himself against the fabric as slick dripped readily down his palms and wrist.

Steve collapsed, boneless against the mattress, chest heaving, dazed by his own pleasure. The haze only lasted a few moments before his high crashed. The Omega let out a choked sound, rolling onto his side and away from the cloak, pressing his forearm against his wet eyes as he curled into a tight ball, disgusted with himself and feeling utterly hopeless. He’d just – to Thor…who already had a lover, who had an Omega he wanted to mate with – who would never see Steve like that.

What was _wrong_ with him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....Steve totally met some important Vanir. In case you don't know your Norse mythology, Njörðr anglicized name is Njord, and he's totally Freyr's dad. Which makes his grandson...heh. Let's just say that Steve's going to have a couple of Princes interested in him, poor guy. He doesn't even realize how into him Thor is, not that Thor's quite gotten there yet either. Ended on a sad note, but what's romance without a little self-loathing and angst?
> 
> Harðhugaðr is joke by Jöl and a bit of a poke at Thor, as it's one of Thor's titles. It means strong spirit/brave heart, but also fierce ego. Freyr is known for raising a special kind of boar that has golden bristles, so the fact that "Jöl" in charge of them would have been a tip off to anyone who knew more about the culture about his real name and who he really is.


	7. A Shift in Feeling, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor had cut it short as a result, too unnerved by the sight of Loki’s mannerisms and the sound of his cruel, cutting words coming from Steve. “Oh,” his brother had cackled, rocking back on his heels as he purposely jutted his hips forwards, knowing – knowing – that the Alpha in Thor couldn’t help but glance down to trace the wide ‘v’ it displayed. “You like him. Oh, dear brother, aren’t we in trouble. What would you dear Lady Foster think if she knew?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? I'm on a role.
> 
> Un-betaed, Thor's POV this chap.

Tony’s lab was a bustle of activity though it was distinctly _not_ science in nature. From the doorway Bruce sighed, eyeing the rather sizable piles of empty beer bottles and even a handful of whiskey ones that littered the workspaces. The main workspace was empty, but the Omega could hear Tony cursing loudly from the rest lounge. He followed the sound, brows furrowing at the sight of Tony in a bean bag chair, hands white-knuckled around a StarkBox controller. One of his many robot helpers – Dummy, it was probably Dummy – held the other. Unsurprisingly, the race taking place on the wide screen wasn’t really going anywhere and was massively one-sided.

“Fuck buddy,” Tony slurred, “you’re really bad at this.”

Dummy gave a sad little chirp.

The fact that Dummy – and the machine’s handful of brothers and, well, even _Jarvis_ – existed provided a rather pitiful window into Tony Stark’s mind, though Bruce doubted that many saw or realized it. The fact that he’d programmed his nanny/body guard’s personality (to such a frighteningly accurate extent that Mr. Jarvis’ sister had fainted when she’d come to visit) was damning enough, but the helper robots were truly the saddest.

How lonely did a man have to feel to _make_ his own companions?

Bruce knew that Tony’s latest regression revolved around Steve and his mysterious disappearance. While everyone seemed in agreement that he’d been taken to Asgard for some reason – and therefore was most likely safe, as Thor had proven a valuable and loyal ally – long before Sif had arrived to tell them so (and hadn’t that been a heart-wrenching story to hear; to think of Steve so alone up there, filled with some magical element he couldn’t understand, body transformed into something he didn’t recognize anymore…Bruce could relate to what he must be feeling right now) Tony had been riddled with guilt. Oh, he hid it well enough, but Bruce could tell. He felt responsible somehow, despite the fact that the London mission would have happened even if they hadn’t dropped the ‘semi-immortality’ bomb on Steve and stunned the other Omega into a painful, pitiful, shell-shocked state.

Tony’s head snapped to face him, nostrils flaring slightly, before giving him a lopsided grin. “Bruce! What’s up, man? Wanna play? I’m tired of kicking Dummy’s ass.”

Dummy drooped, claws actually wilting. Tony had truly done a hell of a job anthropomorphizing the machine. Bruce shook his head, crossing the small space between them with determined steps. A flick of his wrist had the game console and the TV shutting off, another removed Tony’s beer from his hand, draining into the pot of a long dead house fern.

“What – why did you do that?” Tony asked, aghast.

“Because you haven’t left this room in three days and frankly, you stink.” Bruce said, the strength so few knew he had coming into play as he hauled the drunk man to his feet.

“I don’t smell!”

Bruce’s nose wrinkled. “Trust me, Tony. You really, really do.”

Tony shrugged off his grip, going to sink back down into the bean bag, but Bruce re-caught the arm, physically dragging the unwilling man behind him. “You’re going to take a shower, get a change of clothes, and them I’m going to make you breakfast.”

“It’s like nine at night.”

“Oh good, you actually know what time it is. I’m impressed.” Bruce said calmly, ignoring the glare he was given as he pinged the elevator shut, sending it towards the pent house. “We’re all upset about Steve, Tony, but you can’t just lock yourself in and drink it away.”

“Always worked before.”

Bruce rolled his eyes, arms crossing. “Yeah, well. That was before.”

“Before what?” Tony asked, eyes curious.

“Before…just, before.” Bruce answered lamely, crossing his arms and glancing away to stare out of the glass walls at the city below.

Before New York. Before the Avengers Tower. Before Bruce was here. Bruce, who was perhaps the only friend Tony had that hadn’t been brow beaten into defeat or so totally jaded by the alcoholic’s constant aggressive highjinks to still give enough of a shit to yank him out of his cycle.

Bruce was honestly very fond of Tony…perhaps a little _too_ fond of the Alpha truth be told, but that didn’t mean that he was going to walk on eggshell around him. Everyone had holes they were trying to fill, everyone had a past they wanted to forget. Bruce knew that better than most. But even if he had been able to drown himself in alcohol (the other guy made that idea a very, very, bad one) he’d never really touched the stuff outside of a few exploratory nights in college.

Having a rampant, abusive alcoholic for a father would do that to you.

There was a sudden movement besides him and Bruce turned just in time to see Tony crowd into his space, sending the Omega against the elevator wall to try and restore some sort of space between them. Bruce’s eyes widened, swallowing heavily as Tony bodily caged him, forearms resting on the glass on either side of his head, as his head bowed down, eliminating the already scare height difference between them.

“I don’t think that really qualifies as an _answer,_ Banner.” The Alpha all but purred, brown eyes mischievous, beer laden breath brushing against Bruce’s sensitive nose. “Me thinks maybe you just wanted to get me alone.”

The Omega snorted, pushing the man away hard enough (or perhaps he was just that drunk) to stumble. “Don’t flatter yourself, Tony. You really do stink.”

Those clever eyes narrowed before Tony leaned down, taking a sniff at his shirt collar. The Alpha pondered for a moment before shrugging. “Eh. It’s been worse.”

“God, I hope not,” Bruce muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. The elevator doors opened and Bruce stepped determinedly into the apartment, and made a beeline for the master bath. The thing between Pepper and Tony had been over ages ago, long before the Battle of New York, but her presence could still be felt here and there. While the female Omega had understandably been unwilling to let Tony drag her down (he’d apparently had one hell of an episode before something in New York – or the gathering of the Avengers – had shocked him into some modicum of adulthood) she still cared deeply for him as a friend and her touch was felt in the collections of bath soaps and hygiene products.

“I’d draw you a bath,” Bruce said as he flipped each shower scrub open and smelled it, nose wrinkling in distaste until he found a tolerable one – and what luck! It was also a shampoo, “but I don’t want you stewing in your own grim.”

He turned, intending to toss the bottle at the Alpha, and felt his mouth dry at the sight of Tony shirtless and mid motion. Against his will Bruce’s eyes followed the carefully sculptured pecs down to defined ridges of Tony’s stomach, then further still, traveling down the dense patch of hair that trailed down and disappeared beneath the waistline of Tony’s sweat pants. The Omega looked away, blushing hotly.

“You have no shame, do you?” He asked dryly, setting the wash on the counter closest to the Alpha. “I’ll just take this moment to have enough for both of us and leave.”

A hand caught his wrist, stilling his escape. “You could stay.”

Tony’s voice was low, so low and suddenly very sober sounding, and Bruce shivered. This thing between them, it had rules. Or at least Bruce felt like it had rules. Neither one of them had done anything about the budding attraction over the last two years and maybe the Omega was foolish, but he had believed they had an agreement to never _ever_ acknowledge it _._

The grip on his wrist tightened.

Then again, maybe they hadn’t.

“…I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Yeah?” Tony said, his thumb moving in a slow, sliding circle on Bruce’s pulse point that sent a delicious and quite forgotten type of shiver down his spine. “‘Afraid we’re going to have to agree to disagree on that.”

Bruce shuddered when Tony stepped closer and he swore he could _feel_ Tony’s heat through his sweater somehow. Tony was standing so close he could feel each of his breathes against his nape, a hand coming to rest like a brand against his hip. Bruce had to fight hard against a frighteningly intense urge to lean back, to let the Alpha take his weight and rest his head in the inviting place where Tony’s neck met his shoulder. A nose was suddenly against his neck, inhaling deeply, and Bruce bit his lip hard to keep the whimper inside, eyes squeezing shut at the sensation.

How long had it been since he’d been scented? Since Betty? God, had it really been that long?

The nose nuzzled into the hollow beneath his chin, lips skimming ever so lightly against his neck. “You smell so good, Big Green.”

“Don’t call me that.” Bruce said quietly, the moment gone as he remembered exactly _why_ this couldn’t happen. The Omega hadn’t managed to be intimate with anyone since the accident, the rise in his heartbeat too dangerous to even try and experiment with. His heats were one thing; the other guy was an Omega just like him and even He couldn’t escape their biology. No, He didn’t want to come out during a heat, leaving Bruce awake and aware for every agonizing moment. He stepped out of the hold, eyes dropping guilty to his feet at the pained, frustrated expression on Tony’s face reflected in the mirror.

“Bruce–”

“Take your shower,” he interrupted loudly, stepping from the bathroom. “I’ll have a meal and some aspirin waiting for you when you’re out.”

He could still take care of Tony (his _Alpha,_ a traitorous part of his mind whispered), could still take care of him in this way, however small it was. Bruce sighed, ignoring the shake of his hand as he pulled a like-new mixing bowl from a kitchen cabinet.

* * *

Thor was practically smirking as he led a confused Steve towards the lift that would lead them to the lower levels. Every tower of the Keep had their own guard unit, including the one that held the quest quarters, complete with barracks and an extensive series of training rooms located in the bowels of the tower. The Omega was aware that something strange was happening, if not from Thor’s overly giddy attitude then by exercise outfit that had the servants had laid out for him that morning. The expression on the smaller blond’s face when the doors reopened to reveal an extensive gymnasium had been worth the late night and early morning.

The Omega took a hesitant step forward, glancing about before looking searchingly in Thor’s direction. “Can I…?”

“I talked to the healers,” Thor said with a smile, undeniably pleased with himself. The sight of Steve’s frustration and anxiety yesterday had been like a physical blow and while the Alpha knew that restrictions placed on Steve were only there out of fear for not only the Aether but his health, Thor despised feeling powerless in any situation. And so moments after he’d excused himself from Steven’s room for the night, Thor had left the Keep with on a mission, waving off a small fleet of guards who attempted to follow him. The Healer’s ward was only a handful of blocks from the Keep proper, but the cold night air still bit at him, making the tips of his beard and ice-lashes ice.

Healer Tóla, the Beta in charge of Steven’s study, was less than enthused to find him standing on her doorstep at such a late hour, but there were certain privileges that came with being the High Prince of the Nine Realms, and an impromptu home-visit about medical advice was one of them. Tóla had been resistant to the idea of allowing someone like Steve – who existed perpetually balanced on the starvation line – access to the training rooms, but upon pressure admitted that she did not believe that the Aether would react to limited physical activity.

“They said as long as I remain to observe you and you promise to take frequent breaks, you may exercise at will. No sparring or contact-sports, however, and Lady Tóra was quite clear in the repercussions should you fail to obey those orders.” Thor warned, guiding Steve further into the room, ignoring the curious looks of the guardsmen there.

He had sworn to keep a sharp eye on Steven’s health and to stop him at any moment when it looked like the Aether may be acting up or he startled to look anything less than hale, and Thor knew that should either one of them fail in this Tóra would strike any chance for ‘pointless, chest-beating activity’ from Steven’s schedule.

“Really?” Steven’s voice sounded almost like a child and his gaze kept returning to where a series of punching bags were lined up against the far wall. Bright blue eyes, practically sparkling with eagerness, turned back to him. “When did you have time to do all this?”

Thor just shrugged, pushing him in the direction of the bags. “Go and stretch, I will find some tape to bind your hands.”

It took only a handful of moments to locate the wraps from the gear lockers and when Thor crossed the training room, he began to bind the eager Omega’s hands with a laugh. Steve was bouncing up in and down in one spot, a rogue-ish grin on his face.

“There,” Thor said, turning the hands over in his own to check his work, “I’m afraid I won’t be doing much but observing you, my apologies if that proves a source of discomfort. Perhaps I can offer you corrections to your form – if you need any, of course.”

“It’s fine.” Fingers curved around his own in a light squeeze and Thor glanced up at him, feeling his eyes widen at the sight of such pure, unabashed gratitude that was being displayed. “You won’t make me uncomfortable. Thank you for this, Thor.”

He covered those deft fingers with his own, returning the kind movement. “No thanks is necessary. No go, have fun. Try not to pull anything.”

Steve made a face before swinging around on his heel, cracking his knuckles so loudly that an Alpha guard glanced up from his lift bench, eyebrow raised. Thor retreated to the wall, leaning against it and crossing his arms, amused as he watched Steve size up the bag as if he expected it to strike back. Steve cut a striking figure; clothed head to toe in the tight yet flexible leather that both Asgard, Vanir, and Elven warriors alike preferred, the blue so dark it made the blond of his hair startling bright.

By nature of his station, Thor had caught the attention of every guard upon entering their training space but for once it was not the Alpha-Prince that held it. If Steve was aware of the eyes upon him he gave no indication, rolling his head side to side as he shook out his arms. The moves were strangely graceful and smooth despite the fact that they were designed to warm up and loosen, and without warning the easy relaxation in Steve’s form disappeared.

The Omega snapped into position, body going rigid and tight as his fists flew up into a guard, and the first punch that was thrown was sharp and tight, front two knuckles aligned to provide maximum amount of force, and the bag was sent flying backwards. Before it had a chance to fully swing back into position Steve was upon it, raining strikes upon it so fiercely that stand (a thing itself designed for warriors of the higher races and was quite heavy indeed) began to slowly slide backwards.

The line of punches were broken at random moments with other blows; an elbow strike here, a palm or face strike there, and the echoing smack of flesh hitting leather as Steve assaulted the poor bag hard enough to make it groan. Each strike was as precise as it was violent, and it was clear to any watching that they would be crippling to an actual opponent. A minute past, then two, and still the strength and accuracy of Steven’s blows did not wain, and Thor would readily admit that he doubted that the Omega would need any of his tutelage.

He didn’t deny himself the smug grin as he watched the stunned and intrigued faces of the guards. He had already seen the Captain’s battle powerless – his moment of surprise of seeing such skill and fury from a Midgard Omega had long since come and passed. This was how he wanted them to see; Steven Rogers was no man to be coddled, no Omega trinket that Thor had picked up to amuse himself as he wintered in his uncle’s lands. Injured though he may be, and sick from the poisonous symbiont inside of him, but the Captain would never be _weak._

 _This,_ was the man that Thor called readily Shieldbrother.

 _This,_ was the Omega that Thor had followed into battle.

And he wanted all of Alfheim to see it.

Steve’s strikes were gaining in speed, blows raining lighter and lighter, shooting out to touch points on the bag not only in punches but firm-fingered strikes (pressure points, Thor realized belatedly, it seemed that Steven had not been idle while living with the Black Widow). Very few of the guards were activity working out now, most just leaning on the equipment or against their spears and swords as they watched. Thor had the benefit of the knowing that much of the ferocity they were witnessing came from weeks of being cooped up, but he was more than content with whatever misconceptions about Steven’s viciousness their minds concocted.

The Alpha started when Steve suddenly flew around in a high roundhouse kick, high enough to strike close to the mounting of the bad, and felt his mouth dry at the sight of such flexibility. Suddenly the guards were forgotten, Thor’s attention locked wholly on the Omega (as he had promised it would be) but Steve showed no signs of exhaustion, no red glow that seemed to indicate the presence of the Aether reaching from his system, nothing except a clear, content expression.

It was clear that the Omega was as much a warrior as himself, and Thor was slightly ashamed to see that Steve was perhaps more comfortable in his pursuit to destroy the defenseless bag then he’d seen him since his arrival. Why had he not pushed for this sooner? There was always something so pleasant, a deep rooted content that came from watching someone with skill in their element. Had Steven been born when his people still walked Midgard Thor had no doubt his father would have snatched him up to join the ranks of his Valkyrie.

It had come to him more than once in the last few weeks that Steven was beautiful, how could it not? It was not as if Thor had been aware of it all those months ago in New York. The Captain’s uniform was rather tight, providing a uniquely undisturbed view of the Omega’s lines with it’s seemingly lack of any real armor, but there was something about seeing Steven in the clothing of his people…

But like this? With sweat crowning his brow and eyes intense with focus, cheeks reddened from activity – he was stunning. His eyes swung from the sparring form, sharp gaze darting across the handful of Alphas in the room, and fought an alarming urge to curl his lips in a silent snarl as he caught the sight of unabashed, unhidden interest on more than one. One particular guard, a burly Alpha with slicked back hair and a nose that had been broken and reset one too many times, had given up all pretense of exercise, mouth slightly open and expression hungry as he watched Steven's form.

Thor shifted ever so slightly and to the guard’s credit (which Thor would not give) he caught the movement immediately. They locked eyes and the guard’s expression blanched at the sight of Thor’s glare, fumbling with the weights in his hand before he turned away to re-shelve them. Thor knew that the prospects for Alphas who wished to mate with Omegas in Alfheim were slim; it was perhaps the only world that had the three genders where Alpha-Beta pairings were the norm and more than one Vanir Alpha found some excuse to visit Asgard, always under the guise of some study program or work exchange, but usually with the aim of finding a match among the much more Omega-dense population of Thor’s city.

He would not allow that for Steven.

The Captain would not be bothered by courtship suits unless it was what he wanted, and the first handsy Alpha that showed too much interest in the overly-stressed Omega would meet his reckoning at Thor’s hands. A part of his mind – the part that sounded so very much like Loki – pointed out shrewdly that perhaps such protection wasn’t even _wanted_ by Steve, but Thor ignored it quick enough.

His brother was still a sore subject, yet despite all that he had done Thor loved his brother. And Loki’s influence on his life could not be denied, as was so clearly shown by that annoying little voice in his head that was always whispering for him to wait and watch, to think before he leapt, to keep his silence and wait to see what others would say before offering his mind.

Thor had made a stop to see Loki in the dungeons, as he always did when he returned home in between his missions, and as usual he regretted the decision almost as soon as it had been made. The gossip-mongers were out in force if the news of Steve’s arrival and near constant presence by Thor’s side had made it to his brother. More than just chatter, if the way that Loki had so cheerfully transformed himself into the form of Omega and insisted upon staying in it for the entirety of his visit.

Thor had cut it short as a result, too unnerved by the sight of Loki’s mannerisms and the sound of his cruel, cutting words coming from Steve's visage. _“Oh,”_ his brother had cackled, rocking back on his heels as he purposely jutted his hips forwards, knowing – _knowing_ – that the Alpha in Thor couldn’t help but glance down to trace the wide ‘v’ it displayed. _“You_ like _him. Oh, dear brother, aren’t we in_ trouble. _What would you dear Lady Foster think if she knew?”_

What would Jane say if she knew –

Knew what? That he’d been keeping close contact with another Omega? No, Jane would understand. Steven was his friend, and what’s more he was a great Captain to her people, she would want no more harm to come upon him then Thor did. And yet Thor could not deny the guilt he sometimes felt, the strange sharpness that edged his breath those first few nights when he’d stood before his bed, eyes locked on the sight of a beautiful Omega sleeping contently there.

As suddenly as Steve started, the Omega stopped. His chest heaved, a somewhat shaky hand rising up to wipe at his face and brow, before turning to give Thor a wide, happy grin. “Man, I need that.” He took a step towards him and Thor was by his side before either had fully registered the wobble to his step, a hand grasping his elbow in support. Steve let out an uneasy laugh. “Guess that took more out of me then I thought. Stupid though, I barely even started.”

“Lady Tóla was quite specific.”

“I know,” the Omega grumbled, leaning ever so slightly into Thor’s support, “still should have been able to do more.”

Thor gave the beaten and battered bag – the thing was barely holding on to its fastenings – an amused glance. “Any more and I believe I would have owed the Training Master a new bag, my friend. Come, there is a private shower for the officers we may use. Refresh yourself and then we will eat.”

“We just had breakfast –” Steve started, but the loud rumble of his stomach quelled his objection, and Thor let out a low chuckle at the fierce blush (who would have thought from the stories Jane told of Earth’s Mightiest Warrior that he would be one so easy to color?) and guided him towards the showering rooms. “Alright, maybe a snack’s not a bad idea.”

Thor palmed the antechamber door shut somewhat forcefully, grateful that his friend no noticed the stares that had followed them, before reaching for the servant’s bell and pushing the Omega towards the showers. “Go on, there should be a change of clothing waiting for you. You did well today – do not make that face, you did. You are unwell, that you were able to show so much force is a credit to your strength.”

“If you say so.” Thor just shook his head with a sigh, having learned already that trying to argue with the Captain when he’d set his mind to something was pointless and turned to give Steve some privacy, when a sharp tug on his wrist stopped him. He glanced back to find Steve staring at him, plump lip caught between his teeth. “Thank you for this, Thor. Really. I feel saner already. Can we come back tomorrow?”

“If you’re feeling up to it, of course.” Thor promised, smiling as he stepped out. A servant was already waiting there with a prepared tray laden with enough meats and cheese, breads and fruits – including the carefully sliced pieces of one of Iðunn’s apples – resting there. He thanked the woman, shuffling back into the room to set the trey down before returning to claim the tea from a the second.

He was in the midst of setting up the breakfast trey when the door to the inner bathroom opened and Thor glanced up mid-pour of the tea, surprised to find the Omega finished so soon. At his expression Steve shrugged, padding across the heated stone and slipping into a plush chair that was more at home in a grand parlor then the cramped changing room of a barracks training gym.

“They taught us to shower quickly in the military,” was the only explanation Thor got before Steve was digging into the food.

Thor took a plate for himself, though it was more to keep Steve from feeling awkward then from any real hunger, and watched with a growing degree of astonishment as the Omega proceeded to inhale the rich food. Though he’d seen it at almost every meal, the ferocity with which Steve ate was always something to see.

They spoke of their coming day around Steve’s mouthfuls – their schedule had been somewhat altered to accommodate the new training time – but they’d barely finished their morning itinerary when the Omega finished off the trey, sprawling back into the chair, tea balanced on his chest.

“It’s stupid,” he said, his voice strange in distorted as he spoke around a yawn, “I have no idea why I feel like this. I was at Normandy, for Christsake.”

“Your body is under an enormous amount of strain, my friend.” Thor soothed, reaching out to pull the precarious cup from its position and setting it back down atop the trey. “It is hardly unexpected that you feel some exhaustion after that display. I could always call Dúsi and cancel your lessons for today.”

“No,” Steve said a sigh, “don’t do that. I need them if I don’t want to make a jerk out of myself this weekend. Just give me a minute; I’ll regroup once the food kicks in. I always do.”

Thor shook his head fondly, the Omega was half-way to sleep before he finished his sentence, eyes drooping low and mouth lax, and he was hardly surprise when mere moments later Steve was not only asleep – but from the looks of it, asleep deeply despite his uncomfortable position. There were no beds down here (an even if there were, Thor would not have left him there with so many greedy eyes) yet he found himself reluctant to rob his friend of whatever sleep his besieged body needed. And so Thor stood, palming the changing room’s door open before returning to the sleeping Omega.

It was a testament to just how out of it Steve truly was that he did not even stir as Thor first lifted him from the chair, then crudely shifted him into a less unwieldly hold in his arms. Thor stepped out of the training room, crossing towards the elevator with the firm, unbothered stride that came with being raised in royalty, dismissing the gawking stares and whispers that followed the sight of them.

He gave the group a stern glare as he turned in the elevator, fighting the twitch of his lips as the unit immediately blustered back into activity, as if they hadn’t just been caught watching red-handed. Steve’s body was still warmed from the shower, his weight a welcomed heat against the chill of Fjallguard, and Thor glanced down, brows furrowed as Steve shifted. But the Omega did not wake, head lulling across Thor’s shoulder as he settled against his neck, brow pressed against his chin, breaths a soft patter against his throat.

It was all too natural to rest his chin against the damp hair, the short strands a slight tickle against his lips and his grip tightened minutely, tucking his friend closer. He allowed himself one inhale of the pure Omegan scent there before straightening as the doors opened to their floor.

He shuffled into Steve’s room carefully – he was quite tall, only a few inches shorter then Thor if at all and the last thing he wanted was to strike the Omega’s feet on something and wake him – before laying the slumbering man atop his bed. Thor took just long enough to free him of his boots before covering him with the thick fur lined quilt that lay folded at the bed’s feet. Steve let out a sigh, turning to stretch out along the bed on his back, a hand flying out along the empty side, and Thor shook his head at the move before gently tucking the errant hand back beneath the blanket.

The Alpha stepped away, intent only leaving, only to hesitate. After a moment he reached up, unclasping his mantle. He stared down at the silky wool in his hands, the bright scarlet dulling even his deep tan, before draping it too over the Omega’s still form. Steve shifted immediately, curling tightly around the fabric and Thor felt his breath catch at the sight, hands curling ever so slightly by his side.

He stood for far longer than he meant to, mind blank of anything other than a confused, almost fearful awareness of the heavy weight in his chest, of what it could mean, and Thor’s hands fisted tightly in denial against the feeling.

He needed to see Jane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for your lovely support. I hope you like the slow burn, I'm trying to make their shift in feeling a gradual thing. Something neither one of them were looking for, but something they can't really resist as they spend so much time together. I'm also struggling to keep Cap his badass self without making him a marysue or anything. 
> 
> One of the things that inspired me to write this story was Steve's personality. I was watching the first Cap movie after the Avengers and just was kind of struck by how Steve's personality and skillset, along with his unshakable morals, would be something Thor's people would value and why didn't they spend more time building an epic bro-mance there? Thus all the interest in Steve.
> 
> Oh and Bruce, Tony. Were they IC enough? Gah, I love writing them. I love writing gushy romances, I swear it was all the Disney that did it to me. I couldn't stay away, even when I was trying to pretend to be a badass in the military I was secretly watching Disney-esqe romances in my rack all ninja-like. Just can't resist it.


	8. A Night to Remember, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane nodded slowly, hands curling in the front of the borrowed hoodie, and tried not feel disappointed.
> 
> Or dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! Go check out the awesome fanart that has been added in the last chapter. While you at it, click and go visit the deviantart page as well. Check out the other cool stuff!
> 
> Un-beated.

_“Heimdall.”_

“Do not growl at me, pup.” The Watcher warned, lip curling up slightly. “I’ve been defending Asgard’s borders since before you father even began to dream of whelping you.”

Thor gritted his teeth, hands tight by his side. “Forgive me, but I must see Jane. Can you not understand that?”

“I respect your need, my Prince,” the dark skinned Alpha said slowly, “but I cannot just send you to Midgard. You must have your father’s permission. Is it not enough that I allowed the Lady Sif visit?”

“You know he will not grant it.” Thor snapped, hand waving in a wide motion of general upset. He was tired of arguing, they’d been at it for hours. Yet Heimdall remained unmoved, no matter what words he tried to use. “I must speak with her. It is – it is a matter of the heart.”

“A matter of the heart is very grave indeed.” A soft voice interrupted and both Aesir jerked, surprised to find his Queen-mother standing at the entrance of Heimdall’s pedestal, expression soft. “Hello, my son.”

“Mother, how did –”

“I’ve come to bring Heimdall his drink,” Freya said, raising the heavy jug of Iðunn’s mead. It was all the Watcher ate to keep himself sustained, so dedicated was he to his watch. “And I could hear your quarrel from the other side of the Bifröst. You know much better than to speak to Lord Heimdall so.”

Freya’s admonishment was light, but Thor bowed his head in shame regardless. She crossed the small space, offering the jug to the Alpha-Lord. Moments later gentle yet calloused hands – the hands of a warrior – gently cupped his cheek.

“What is it that troubles you, my dear boy?”

Thor fought an urge to lean into his mother, to bury his face amongst the gentle curve of her neck, to hide against her curls and breathe in her familiar scent. It had been perhaps only a few days more than two weeks since he’d last seen her, but somehow it felt so much more. “I…have become confused.”

He let the words hang, not out of embarrassment at the presence of Heimdall – Thor, along with all that knew of the Watcher, had long come to peace with the knowledge that no moment of their lives were truly their own. Heimdall already knew of Thor’s predicament. He may even know it better then Thor did.

“And going to Midgard, to Jane, will aid you in this confusion?”

“I do not know.” He admitted quietly. _It must though,_ Thor added quietly, and hoped it true with all he knew.

“Confusion and a matter of the heart.” Freya’s voice was terribly understanding, in a way that made Thor strangely ashamed of his own bewilderment and the indecision in his heart. “I suppose it cannot be helped. You may go to Midgard.”

Thor’s head snapped up, astonished. “Mother?”

“I will handle your father. But a night and a day, no more can even my persuasion give.” Freya warned, voice stern. “And do not forget your vow, because regardless of how yoy may feel, you have given it. And Steven Rogers cannot afford your confusion.”

Thor straightened as if he’d been slapped. “Of course, Mother.”

* * *

Steve woke alone and in his bed. The Omega peaked his head over the covers, brows furrowed in confusion, and squinted in the dark of his bedroom. His hand reached out, slapping haphazardly until he’d found the light panel and then cursed loudly, bringing a hand up to rub at his eyes as the room was instantly thrown into sharp relief.

When the hell had he fallen asleep?

God, his mouth tasted _so_ bad.

He stumbled to his feet, hissing under his breath at the feel of cold stone, and made his way to the bathroom. A quick brush of his teeth and a wash of his face and Steve felt almost human again. He hesitated for a moment before the bed, eyes locked on the mantle that was certainly not one of his own, fingering the smooth and warm material between his fingers before draping it over a nearby chair next to his own. He bent down, pulling his boots back on with a grunt. He was unbelievably hungry and Steve wanted to find Thor and ask how he’d ended up back in his rooms – and how long he’d been asleep.

He brushed his hair at the same moment he reached for his cloak, fumbling behind him with his hand as he tried to tame his surprisingly knotted hair into something more reasonable. He really needed to get a trim soon. Steve stepped into the hallway, trying his damnest to ignore the six guards’ attention that was instantly locked on him and headed down towards Thor’s quarters. It was only after he’d pushed the doorbell that Steve realized that the cloak in his hands wasn’t a cloak at all – but Thor’s mantle. He flushed, embarrassed for a moment, before pushing the feeling away.

Steve could always say he was returning it.

But a minute turned in two, then five, and there was still no answer after Steve pressed the chime a second time. Any more seemed rude and Steve turned, confused (and if he was honest) slightly worried, and caught sight of the guards watching him once more. Suddenly aware of how lost he must look, standing before Thor’s empty quarters with the Alpha-prince’s mantle in his hand, Steve threw the warm wool on, straightening it with his jaw tight. He didn’t want to seem any more like an idiot then he possibly already did, even if that meant he had to act like he’d grabbed Thor’s cloak on purpose. He made his way over to the guards, the tight knot in his stomach lessening at the sight of a familiar face beneath a rather ornate helmet.

“Ástríðr.” He greeted cheerfully and felt a surge of relieved pride that he only just stumbled on the pronunciation. “Hello, I didn’t know you did guard duty in this part of the castle.”

“I don’t.” Ástríðr said with a sharkish grin that instantly had the Omega blushing heavily. “But we all get unlucky sometimes. Can I aid you in something, Steven?”

“I was trying to find Thor, but he doesn’t seem to be in his quarters.”

A strange look passed between Ástríðr and the guard posted next to her, one that instantly made Steve uncomfortable. “Lord Thor has returned to Asgard. He…did not tell you?”

“I…no.” Steve answered, weary as to why he suddenly felt so embarrassed by that fact. Thor was hardly required to tell him anything, but something about the speculative glances the guards were sending him set him on edge. “I was asleep most of the day,” Steve said and then instantly wished he could take it back. He didn’t need to justify himself to anyone. “Did he say when he would return?”

“He did not, my Lord.” The guard next Ástríðr said quietly.

“I can try and find out.” The red headed Alpha said, tone gentle in a way that only set Steve even more on edge; it sounded far too much like pity. “If that would please you. I am sorry he did not leave word of his leaving.”

“It’s fine.” Steve said, “Thor’s under no obligation to report to me. I’m really just hungry. How do you get to the kitchens from here?”

“Take this elevator to the thirtieth floor, then take the adjacent elevator down further to the tenth. It’s right on the left hand side, behind a big glass door. You can’t miss it.” The guard offered.

“Still it was very unkind,” Ástríðr continued with a frown, her words coming so close to the end of the junior guard's that it was nearly an interruption. She rested a hand against her armored hip, brows furrowing tightly. “Would you like me to show you to the kitchens?”

“I couldn’t ask that, you’re on duty.”

Ástríðr sent him a truly charming smile, one that played up every aspect of her beauty. “My commander will understand if it is to escort a visiting noble – and I am his second, there are some perks with the job. Being able to leave early from guard duty is occasionally one of them. Besides, I’ve been thinking much on you since our last meeting. It will be good to catch up.”

The guard next to her rolled his eyes, the move luckly hidden by the flare of his helmet, and Steve could understand his distaste. Steve was never overly fond of officers who threw their rank around to get out of things enlisted had to do everyday either. But it wasn’t his really his place to say anything, and he _was_ hungry, so Steve nodded his assent.

“I’ve known his Grace,” Thor was always ‘his grace,’ but his uncle was always ‘his serene majesty,’ “nearly all his life. He’s always been just a little discourteous in his actions.” Ástríðr said as she summoned the lift.

“Oh?”

“Yes, I’ve known his Grace since he was but a boy. I was one of the guards often assigned to the royal nursery and school rooms, and he spent much time there when he wintered. It’s hard to take someone seriously when you’ve seen them struggle with their boot laces.”

“Really.” The Omega remarked, voice flat, and either Ástríðr missed the drop in his tone or thought little of it, even as the guard at her side stiffened, eyes flickering over to stare at Steve then back down the hallway nervously.

“I’m surprised,” Steve said slowly, hands drifting his behind his back to clasp each other, body easing into parade rest without thought, “Thor didn’t seem to recognize you when we first met.”

“Well, no.” Ástríðr said with a sigh, waving her hand about dismissively, “the High Prince hardly made time to get to know many of us Vanir guards. Hubris is a dangerous thing, and I daresay his Grace more than his share. What happened at his coronation is clear enough proof of that. First Crown Prince in the history of the Aesir or Vanir to be banished, however temporarily.”

“So you are – what, second-in-command of the Palace Guard?”

“Yes.”

The Omega’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Captain, you always bad mouth your superiors to anyone who will listen? Or is just visiting 'nobles?'”

“Excuse me, my Lord?”

 _Oh,_ Steve thought with a rather vicious twist, _suddenly it’s ‘my Lord.’_

“I’m just curious. Thor’s – what, a High Prince? So, I mean, considering from what I understand about your military hierarchy here – what with your royals all holding commanding positions – that makes him right up there with your King, doesn’t it?” Steve’s voice had gone glacial, the nervous timidness he felt earlier completely gone. “Let’s see, there is the High King Odin,” he began to tick titles off on his fingers, “King Freyr, the High Queen Freya, Queen Gerðr, Thor, Prince Fjölnir, Thor’s brother – not Loki, the other one, the little boy –”

“Vidar.” The unnamed guard next Ástríðr offered, eyes wide and slightly delighted.

“Yes, thank you. Vidar, Commander of the Royal Armies, Halldóra the Scarred – really neat title by the way – Head of the Royal Mystics, Lord Kofri, your commander officer, Lúta the Commander of the Keep. You know, it’s strange. When I got here, the first thing I memorized was your military ranks. I was very careful to learn everyone of importance’s name. Old soldering habit to cover my own ass I suppose.” Steve paused, head cocking to the side in confusion. “And yet I never once ran into _your_ name, Ástríðr.”

The elevator dinged and the Omega stepped past the stunned red head and into it. He turned, giving Ástríðr a stern look he usually reserved to people he found asleep – or worse – on duty. The other guards were studiously studying their own boots, falling into the age old military survival tactic of pretending absolutely nothing was going on in the hopes they wouldn’t be dragged into it.

“I think I can manage the kitchen on my own, thanks. You should probably not abandon your post. Captain.”

The doors slid shut and Steve snorted, shaking his head. Self-important COs seemed to exist everywhere, even amongst the gods.

Go figure.

* * *

Jane stared giddily at her readings, she could hardly believe they were still here! No one had shown up to try and take them from her – holy hell, she was actually going to be able to _publish!_ Jeez, she’d been waiting years for this moment. And now that it had come, Jane hardly knew what to do with herself. She’d divided her information up into appropriate piles, put them in folders, set up a chart for organization (complete with coordinating highlighter colors for different subjects) and had down a _very_ rough outline of her article.

She already had eighteen – that’s right, _eighteen_ – different science journals interested.

One day, she was going to take Sif out shopping and buy her the largest beer on tap to thank for all of this. Without the Aesir’s assistance, Jane would never have been able to retrieve anything. The data wasn’t as awesome as it had been that first day, when the anomaly was ongoing and fresh, but it something like that left a pretty big echo.

Jane had been forced to stay behind in the hallway once she’d shown Sif to the hidden  and the abandoned factory as a whole, and the Aesir warrior had returned from it with a pale face. It was apparently safe now (which, honestly, Jane hadn’t couldn’t remember it not being safe, which was scary all in itself) but that didn’t seem to be a good thing by the expression on Sif’s face. The floating stones were apparently made to hold something once a long time ago, but whatever it was had been taken off of Earth along with Captain America, and it’d taken the anomaly with it. Which was sad on so many different levels.

But hey!

She still had quite a bit of information and Jane could totally make this work.

Without warning the entire flat suddenly shook, the lights flaring and Jane froze, heart in her throat, before racing – slippers, nightgown and all – out her front door and up the stairs to the roof. The sight of Thor in all his blond, princely glory, standing on her roof brought tears to her eyes, stole her breath and her voice, and all the Omega could do was throw herself forward.

Thor caught her with ease and Jane instantly nuzzled in, standing on her tiptoes to press her nose to the Alpha’s throat and breathe deep that heady scent that haunted her. It had been so long, Jane had started to give up hope. After what had happened in New Mexico, after Thor’s promise, Jane had been convinced that her pickiness when it came to choosing an Alpha had been well-founded. It drove her parents and friends absolutely nuts, and more than one decent man or woman had been shot down after a careful arrangement by them, but Jane had always known she just needed to hold out until she felt that special spark with someone. Like she had with Thor.

But then he’d left.

And not come back.

Darcy had begun to gently nudge her towards dates, sending her out with nearly every Alpha and Beta that held Omega preferences in the university they were working abroad at, and Jane had even let herself go out on a couple of them. Because, well, it just didn’t seem like Thor was coming back. Especially after what happened in London. He’d been so close and Thor hadn’t even waited to see her. They didn’t even need to talk, just a wave would have done.

But now Thor was back, here, holding her tightly, and Jane felt foolish forever doubting herself.

“You’re here,” she croaked out, clinging even tighter, “it’s been _years_ you jerk.”

“I know. I am sorry,” Thor murmured softly into her hair, “and I am afraid I do not have much time.”

“What?” Jane asked, pulling back abruptly. “What do you mean, ‘you don’t have much time?’”

“Only tonight and part of tomorrow, then I must return to Asgard.”

“No.” The Omega snapped, pulling away completely. _“No._ You don’t just get to show up for the first time in ever and just leave. I – I want you to _stay,_ Thor. I miss you, I…” Somehow, it still felt far too soon to use ‘love,’ even if Jane was sure. “I…feel like we have a chance for something special, something – something important. But you keep leaving and I – I don’t know what to do with that? Don’t you…don’t you feel the same way?”

Thor’s face was strangely guarded and Jane was suddenly hit with the idea that _oh no, oh crap, I’ve taken this too fast. He doesn’t feel the same way, you idiot!_ Because despite how deeply she felt for Thor, they’d really only spent a handful of days together. Matings had been made on less, especially in the older days, but what if –

A hand cupped her cheek, gently brushing a tear away. “I care for you, Jane. I do, but I have obligations to my people. I am their Prince, I cannot just abandon them. No more than I can abandon a friend.”

And now Jane just felt like a Grade-A ass. Sif had explained (abet it had been heavily edited, like the ones SHIELD gave Jane all the time) what was going on with Captain America, how whatever had happened when they’d been in that hidden room had made him very sick – that it may even kill him – and Jane had a terrible feeling that if the Captain hadn’t been there, it would be her in his place.

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly, reaching out and grabbing Thor’s hands in her own. “I didn’t mean to snap, I just miss you. It was unfair of me, I know that the Captain’s pretty sick, and I do understand that you have responsibilities. I mean, as much as I can. Come on, let’s get out of the cold. I’ll make us some tea. If I only get you for a little bit, I don’t want to waste any of it.”

Thor’s smile was a beautiful thing, and Jane felt her heart flutter as he brought her hand up for a kiss. They ended up snuggling on the couch, talking until the sun  and set again, and she’d even found an oversized university hoodie that (barely) fit Thor so that they’d both be more comfortable. It felt wonderful to be cradled against the Alpha’s broad form. Back in New Mexico everything had happened so fast, they’d never had a chance to just talk, or to really touch each other. Nothing besides that last kiss.

Now that Jane knew what she was missing, she was all the more loathed to let him go. But somehow there was something off. The Omega wasn’t sure what it was, just that it was _something._ The artful affection that Thor had so readily showed her in the past seemed muted and so had the cheerful mirth that had made him so charismatic. Jane tried not to read too much into. Thor was allowed to be quiet, to be calm. She’d seen it before. Besides, the truth of it all was that Jane hardly knew the Aesir Alpha, certainly not well enough to claim knowledge of his moods.

It was something that Jane intended to rectify and so she talked quickly, trying to learn as much about Thor as she could, interrupting every now in then with stories of her own life. It felt like some romance movie, like they were some sort of star-crossed lovers that had to use every minute they had wisely. It was queerly beautiful.

They had breakfast in the loft, and lunch and dinner as well because Jane couldn’t bare herself to share him with anyone else, and they spent nearly the entire time talking, touching gently. They fell quiet sometime around ten the following night, Jane fighting the urge to yawn as the adrenalin finally began to fade, and she snuggled even closer into Thor’s broad form. The Alpha’s arm was thrown lightly around her shoulders, forming a pillow for her head.

“I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“I know. I must though.”

“Is he really sick?”

There was a pause. “Yes.”

The single word was said with such genuine sadness that Jane snuggled in even closer, nuzzling at Thor’s jaw, wrapping her arm tighter around his stomach in comfort. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to see someone she cared about that sick. If something happened to Darcy – the only real friend Jane had left, the only one who’d been through what she had – she’d be utterly despondent too.

“When did you two meet? At New York?” There was a quiet nod. “I still can’t believe you know _Captain America._ I mean, your Thor, God of Thunder, so I mean, I guess it’s not that strange.” _My life,_ Jane thought with both awe and incredibility. “It’s not that you’re any less impressive, it’s just – he’s _Captain America._ I’ve been to his museum exhibit like a thousand times.

I learned about him in school like three different times. When we went over WWII, the Omega Lib Movement and there is a whole class in you have to take in science undergrad about the dangers of chemical engineering because of him. Do you know how many people have failed and died or mutated into – into monsters and stuff because they tried to recreate the serum? I grew up hearing about him – I painted one of those rubber trashcan lids to look like his shield. Used to beat the crap out of these annoying Alphas in the neighborhood with it, and – and I’m rambling. Sorry.”

Jane ducked her head embarrassed.

“He was kind of one of my heroes growing up, you know? I loved Omegas that proved the stereotypes wrong.”

“It’s quite alright,” Thor said gently, resting his head against hers, “he is a very just man. I can think of no other so deserving of your high praise.”

“What’s he like?” Jane couldn’t help but ask, even though it made her feel like _that person._ The Avengers were pretty famous, but unlike Tony Stark that flaunted anything and everything he had, most of them were fairly secretive. No more so then Steve Rogers, and it seemed like the rest of the Avengers were set on keeping it that way. The Hawkeye had even punched and kneed a camera man in the groin who’d ambushed the Captain when he was trying to get some pie at a diner for his birthday.

“Steve is…” There was a long pause and Jane leaned back slightly so she could peer up at Thor, confused at his sudden silence. The look she found there made a ball of ice curl in her stomach. Thor’s eyes were distant, his expression almost lost even as his lips were upturned in a quiet smile, “kind. And noble; far more so than many of those from my own nobility. He is shy, but has a soldier’s humor when you get to know him, as dirty and sly as any other that I know.

He is a fierce warrior without question, yet is also very gentle. And loyal. He has placed a trust in me that I do not know is quite earned, though I strive to make it so. He is a good man, and I am very glad to know him.” Thor glanced down at her, his smile growing wider, “I understand why you told me of him first when I asked for the legends and great warriors of your time.”

Without quite knowing what drove her to do so, Jane pushed forward, pressing her lips against Thor’s. The Alpha made a surprised sound, but his hand came about to thread her hair, allowing the kiss. The touch was innocent at first, and the skin between them was allowed to grow warm before Thor deepened it. Jane gave a quiet whimper, leaning further into the touch, gently meeting the Alpha’s tongue with her own.

It was beautiful, perfect, and Jane’s body seemed to hum so close to a compatible Alpha, but when she tried to take it further, to slide fully into Thor’s lap, he broke away, eyes downcast. “Thor?”

“Let me just hold you.” He said quietly, pulling her close to his chest. “I must leave soon, just…let us sit like this, for a little while longer.”

Jane nodded slowly, hands curling in the front of the borrowed hoodie, and tried not to feel disappointed.

Or dread.

* * *

Thor was nowhere to be found.

Outside of the Grand Ballroom, Steve tried very calmly not to feel too much anxiety about that. Instead he stared at himself in one of the floor length mirrors, trying to recognize his own reflection. When the servants had come with his outfit for the Ball, Steve hadn’t even known what to say or how to react. It took him far longer than it should have to put the clothing on and that had made him nearly late.He'd become late about ten minutes after he'd arrived and just stood outside the doors.

The outfit was well-tailored to his form; the leather of his pants – a dark, nearly black, blue, and highwasted that hugged his curves tightly, showing off his defined calves and (embarrassingly) butt, and somehow made his legs look far longer than they were. A matching pair of boots and gambeson heightened the illusion, tapered slightly around the waist before coming to an abrupt end just above his naval. A heather gray shirt was somehow underneath, skin-tight and yet strangely comfortable and flexible, with a high collar and gleaming buttons of silver.

The servants had tied his sash for him since Thor was still AWOL, the fabric a bright silver silk that was heavily embroidered with the symbols of King Freyr and Queen Greðr (golden boars, running rampant across a pale blue, rolling sea). He’d been given a pair of grey leather gloves as well as a strange caplet entirely made of soft grey fur that draped over his left side.

Steve looked like something out a fairy tale.

He had absolutely no idea how to handle it.

Where was Thor? He’d promised he be here with him, so that Steve wouldn’t have to enter alone. Thor had even suggested it himself when he’d seen how nervous the Omega was about making a grand entrance. It was funny; all those months on a stage and Steve still got stage fright.

But here he was; alone.

And about to be introduced to an entire court, presented to a King who had put himself and his people in harm’s way to take Steve in, a meeting that he’d be assured would be quite mellow and easy because Thor – Thor who was _not here_ – was his beloved nephew.

“Steve.” A voice called and the Omega jumped when there was a sudden hand was on his elbow. “You look beautiful – though it does seem like you’re about to drop at any moment.”

From where he stood, Steve gaped. Jöl stood before him, decked similarly – but with a far more masculine design – to himself in blues, silvers, and greys. His hair was completely tamed, braided back in an immaculate braid, and a simple silver circlet rested on his brow, eyes bright with concern.

“Are you quite alright? One of the guards said you’ve been standing out here, staring at the door, for ages.”

“Jöl? What are you doing here?” Steve asked, totally taken aback to see the pig farmer here, dressed to the nines, and with a rather impressive glowing, flaming sword strapped to his hip.

Jöl gave him a sharp grin. “My mother would skin me alive if I missed one of her balls.”

“Your mother?”

“Would you like me to enter with you?”

“Oh god, please.” Steve blurted out, questions temporarily forgotten. “Thor was supposed to, but he was called back to Asgard and I haven’t seen him at all today.”

“Ah, I see.” Jöl said with a frown, but as quickly as it had come it was gone, the cheerful grin back once more. “Well, then, I will gladly be your escort for tonight.” He tucked Steve’s hand into the crook of his elbow, nodding at one of the guards. “Announce us.”

Suddenly the giant, gilded doors that Steve had been standing outside for nearly a half-hour (he really didn’t want to go in alone) were thrown open, a guard shining brightly in his dress uniform stepping inside. Steve’s hand tightened against Jöl’s arm, so tight that it had to be painful. A hundred faces were staring at them and it seemed somehow as if they were all staring at  _Steve._

“That’s – that’s a lot of people.”

“Just breathe.” Jöl murmured reassuringly, “breathe and smile.” The Alpha gave him a wink, “don’t worry. I’ll catch you if you faint.”

“I’m not going to _faint.”_

“Good. And sorry, by the way.”

“Wait, what?”

But the guard was already speaking, his voice booming across the mammoth hall. “His Serene Majesty, Prince Fjölnir, Crown Prince of our Great Realm, and Captain Steven Rogers, Royal Omega-Ward of our beloved King.”

_“What?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, dear. 
> 
> O.o
> 
> Bad Thor, breaking promises.
> 
> But look, another Prince swooped into save the day!
> 
> -,-; 
> 
> Don't shoot me, please.
> 
> Love.


	9. A Night to Remember, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His cousin stood at the mouth of the small enclave they’d hidden at, Fjölnir’s face thunderous, and it struck him then, how dubious this must look. He was practically draped over Steven’s form, the Omega bound in his cloak and unconscious with drink. “This is not how it seems.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-beated and at like, twenty-two pages. So it may take me a bit to go through all of it. Just as a note, Peter Parker's much younger in this fic.
> 
> Enjoy!

There were things that Tony Stark wished he’d never come to know.

From where he was standing on his balcony, a tumbler of rum and coke balanced on the railing and clad head to toe in dense, thick clothing to keep off the chill, Tony watched the brightly lit city morosely. One of those things was that he wished he’d never met Captain America. With how his father talked about the Omega, you would have thought Steve shit gold. Howard had always held Steve Rogers in the highest respects.

Howard Stark had been a man of his time and as one of the few people who knew the truth about Steve’s gender, the Omega’s continued military success and overall goodness had left a lasting impression on the Alpha regarding the fairer gender’s abilities. And when Tony had met the Captain himself – well, Tony was Alpha enough to admit that perhaps some of his hostility towards the blond came from an ingrained want to be as different from his father as possible.

Later on it had morphed into something different, something more real. Steve was just so…so…black and white about everything, which made things difficult because Tony was more of a ‘grey area’ type of guy. He and their self-instated leader had butted heads more than once, which really wasn’t Tony’s fault. He wasn’t a soldier and he _definitely_ wasn’t used to anyone issuing him orders. Tony had never done well with authority figures, no matter how pretty the package was, and especially not (as he’d told Steve one morning after a particularly rough battle where Tony had managed the touchdown play and saved the day – and gotten his ass reamed for not following orders and running off on his own) by some naïve, white-bread Omega twelve years his junior, thank you very much.

It wasn’t until the words had left his mouth that it really hit Tony, that Steve was _twenty-four_ when they first met _._ Don’t get him wrong, Tony had a full appreciation for WWII – well, as much of one that someone who hadn’t lived through it could have – and understood what it was that Steve had lived through as Captain America. But for some reason it had never really hit him until that moment that Steve had only been twenty-two when he’d taken the serum and entered the war. Maybe that age wouldn’t seem much to someone in their twenties or early thirties, but to someone two years from forty Steve was still practically a child. Of course he was naïve; he hadn’t lived through Vietnam, through Watergate, through the violence of the sixties. Steve was a young man from a time period when the average US citizen trusted that their country was truly looking out for them, when an FDR-run government was slowly turning the economy around and was one of the last beacons of freedom against Hitler’s machinations.

Tony had no idea why it had taken him nearly six months to come to this realization, especially as it changed the way he viewed the Omega forever. While Steve may have been placed as their figure head the Avengers lived under his roof, ate his food, and used his machines. Tony felt like they were his pack, that he was their pack-Alpha, and (as was so often the case with Tony’s emotions) he suddenly found his feelings for Steve taking a random one-eighty. Almost overnight he’d become hyper aware of just how much the Omega didn’t know about the world around him and how young he really was. He’d started trying rectify the situation immediately; not only was it a tactical weakness – how could he possibly begin to understand the complexities of the world he was muddling about in as an Avenger with a forties education? – but Steve also had no idea how vicious the world was now.

All it would take was wrong thing said, one use of a label that was no longer socially acceptable, and Cap would face the full fury of the press, and Tony knew that no part of Steve was ready for that. He began to invite Steve over to watch movies to help him ‘catch-up’ culturally, always careful to invite Bruce along as well so as not to send the wrong message to the shy Omega. He used the visits as an excuse to gift new things upon Steve, usually new tutoring devices that doubled as games to help the out of place man learn how to navigate the modern world.

What had started out a simple act of good will quickly turned into something much more. At first Steve had been suspicious of Tony’s sudden friendliness, but he'd come to accept it quickly and –in testament to just how lonely Steve must have been those months after he first woke up – began to seek out Tony’s attention on his own. And it was impossible to say no to Steve outside of the Avengers; in battle, Tony had no problem letting Cap know he disagreed with whatever asinine plot he’d come up with, but in their personal life?

All Steve had to do was ask in the quiet, embarrassed yet determined voice, eyes locked on his feet as he asked for help with some piece of technology or another, or for help with his coursework (or could you please explain what this means and how is that even considered acceptable _has everyone lost their minds? Tony, why would anyone_ do this?) and something inside of the Alpha just kind of melted. Maybe it was all of those paternal urges that Tony had spent nearly the entirety of his life pretending didn’t exist, but within two months of spending such simple, laid back evenings together, Tony found himself unbelievably protective of the young Omega.

That one Alpha female from Stark Security that made Steve shift uncomfortably with her non-stop, blatantly sexualized flirting as he waited for the lobby lift? Fired and black-listed from Stark Industries and any of its subsidiaries. The paparazzi published some (frankly really hot) revealing pictures of Steve stretching limberly before a run in Central Park that made him so uncomfortable he barely stepped foot out of the tower for a week? Well, Tony may or may not have employed the Stark Computer Security Department (a department that consisted of a bunch of teenagers/young adult black-turned-cooperate white hats) to tear the paper’s servers into nothing.

And then there was Bruce Banner, who had first intrigued Tony with his bright mind and quick wit, and had somehow become something much more than just an interesting-maybe-friend. Because all those evenings that Tony had spent trying to update Steve to Captain America.2.0? He’d also spent them with Bruce. In the beginning, it had just been a way to make both Omegas unwind and feel more comfortable around himself and the Tower but as the evenings went on, as exactly what Tony wanted began to happen…

That would be another one of those things on a list that Tony wished he’d never come to know; that he was completely compatible with Bruce Banner, on a physical and emotional level, and Tony had never wanted anyone so badly in his life and he was hardly a man used to being kept waiting for what he wanted.

But Bruce…

_“Don’t call me that.”_

“Stupid,” Tony swore loudly, “just really fucking stupid, Stark.” He let out a snort of disbelief. _Big Green,_ “some genius I am.”

“You always just stand around your house and insult yourself?”

The voice made Tony jump, his glass shattering on the balcony as it slipped from his hands, spinning about with a gauntlet-less arm raised as if to strike, and the pointlessness of the move was completely swept away by the fact that there a boy sitting casually on the roof of his balcony. Located at the very tip of the Avengers Tower, Tony’s penthouse didn’t have a true balcony so to speak. It was a heavily framed, with high windowless walls protecting it from the wind and a large, open front. It was a small area that held just enough room for an outdoor table and two chairs, and the curved design of the tower meant that it was only partially covered by a roof.

It was the highest inhabitable point on the Tower, and yet the Alpha was still staring at a young boy balanced precariously on the very edge of his balcony roof, feet hanging off the side and pressed flat against the Tower’s side. He wore a dirty and ratty red hoodie with the hood pulled up and an equally stained red woolen scarf wrapped tightly around his face, hiding all but a pair of amused brown eyes and the thick lashes that framed them. A single lock of brown hair escaped from underneath his hood, lying limply against his forehead.

Tony carefully sidestepped the broken glass, moving back to get a better look at the boy, heart somewhere in his throat when a gust of wind caught his newly exposed form and caused him to stumble at its force. Yet the boy sat unmoving, as if there were no powerful winds to be found at the top skyscrapers.

“Well,” the Alpha managed, licking his lips, “look at you. Not quite sure how you got up there, kiddo, but I’m not mad.” The Alpha was careful to keep his tone light, casual – impressed even, and took a cautious step towards the young man, hand held out. “You’re not in any trouble, I promise. Actually, I’d love to hear how you made it way up here; that’s some serious free climbing-ninja skill. Why don’t you just come on down and you can tell me all about it?"”

The boy’s head cocked to the side. “Yeah, right. You’re just gonna call security on me, aren’t you?”

Tony gave his best devilish smile, winking. “Now come on, does that sound like me? I love surprises.”

The boy seemed to think about it, rocking precariously on the roof lip in a way that had to have shaved at least a decade off of Tony’s life, before shrugging. He stood and Tony felt his eyes nearly double in size, heartbeat a frantic tattoo in his chest as the kid walked – seemingly without fear or a care for the very _great_ height he was at – until he was away from the straight drop and over his balcony proper. The boy crouched down, reaching behind him to…to grab a _book_ (who the hell _was_ this kid?) before hopping off the edge.

The Alpha swore he’d never moved so fast in his life, jolting forward to catch him out of the air, arms wrapping tightly around the waifish body, hands bunching up the fabric of the hoodie in a death-grip. The boy let out a squeak of surprise, hands curling around Tony’s neck in an automatic response, staring at the billionaire mogul with wide eyes. Tony crossed the small space quickly in one large step and into the pent house, actually feeling light headed from the sheer horror he’d felt from the very first moment he’d caught sight of him sitting so high above him.

“Holy fu – dam – _Jesus,_ kid.” Tony finally fumbled, arms till locked tight around the small frame. He took a moment to just inhale the the tiny Omega’s natural scent in relief, and the sweet smell of pup shone through regardless of the filth that covered him. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

The boy had the nerve to look honestly surprised. “Why?”

The Alpha opened his mouth then closed it, unsure of where to even begin to express the range of emotions he was feeling. “You’re not someone who gets scared of heights, huh?”

“I used to be.” The kid said, shifting in his grip. A hand reached up to tug the scarf down enough to show a button nose. “Hi. You’re Tony Stark.”

He let out an incredulous laugh before moving towards the fireplace. A quick wave of his hand had it on and Tony crouched down, setting the boy on his feet next to the warmth – yet couldn’t quite bring himself to release him just yet. “Yeah, I am. I suppose if we're doing introductions, you should tell me your name.”

The boy hesitated, brows scrunching. “…everybody seems to be calling me Spiderboy. Or something like that. I don’t look like a spider, you know. I’m a boy. It’s silly.”

“Yes,” Tony agreed. If this kid was more than seven or eight, Tony would start going to church, "you look nothing like an arachnid. What is your name then, or should I just call you Spidey too?”

The boy shrugged, thread bare gloves hovering over the glass plate of the fireplace. “Spidey’s cool, I guess.” _Spidey_ shifted, pulling the book he’d tucked away in his hoody out. It was an old copy of one of Tony’s earlier books on physics that was geared towards first year undergraduate students. “Will you sign it? It’s my favorite book. My auntie got it for me for my birthday.”

Tony took the creased and batter book, eyebrows rising as he flipped through it and saw neat but clearly childish notes written in the pages. “You understand any of this?”

Spidey looked utterly affronted, even offended. “‘course I do. Wouldn’t have you sign a book I didn’t read, duh.”

“My apologies,” Tony said, voice serious, and fished out one of the ever present pens he kept on hand for random moments of inspiration. He signed the title page and watched with a quirked smile as Spidey took the book with far more reverence then it was worth, staring at the signature and personalized message in awe.

“I wrote a report on you.” The tiny Omega said, tucking the book back into his hoodie pocket. And he was tiny; Tony’s hands seemed giant on him, one nearly covering the entirety of his back, the other dwarfing his hips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! It was on your first paper, _Theoretics of Experimental Biophysics and Practical Applications.”_ It seemed as though Spidey felt like he had something to prove after Tony’s earlier slight, or maybe he really was just _that_ excited about biophysics, because he launched into the report. Tony watched the kid go with no small amount of awe, smile quirked as he was reminded – in the best possible way – of himself. Spidey quoted the entire thing from memory, nearly fifteen minutes of science he had no right to understand at his age. “And then there were some graphs,” Spidey said with a truly aggrieved sigh, “but you kind had to see them, but they were awesome. My aunt helped me print them out and they were all in color and stuff.”

“Sounds pretty awesome.”

“Yeah. Some of the other kids didn’t like it, though. My friend Harry said it was wicked though.” Spidey tagged on, as if that forgave all.

“Should I maybe give your aunt a call? She’s got to be worried about you, it’s almost ten o’clock.” The little form stiffened against him, pulling back slightly, and Spidey’s eyes were distant and sad as he stared down at his scuffed shoes. They were Iron Man shoes, Tony noted with a stab of affection, the kind that lit up when you walked.

“She…died.” Spidey said, voice whisper soft.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Tony said, just as quiet, and impulsively drew the small form closer. Spidey leaned into Tony’s side and the boy’s head laid heavily on his chest, gloved fingers fiddling with the strings of his hoodie, and the Alpha fought a surge of protective fondness that bloomed fiercely in his chest. “What about your mom or dad?”

Another sad, minute shake of a head.

“An uncle? Grandparents? Foster parents?” A terrible suspicion began to grow, one that made Tony’s grip tighten even more, “anyone?”

“...can I use your bathroom, please?” Spidey asked instead of answering and Tony frowned, but after a heartbeat he nodded and took a small hand and lead him towards the nearest bathroom.

“Why don’t I make us a snack?” Fuck, what did kids even eat? Was Tony’s fridge even stocked with anything besides booze and take-out? “Sandwiches and milk?” He offered, as he was fairly sure he had that at least.

“Okay.” The boy said, looking so small and out of place in Tony’s ornate bathroom. “Um, where’s the door?”

Tony took a step back and the door slid shut, a wicked smirk growing as a high pitched _“cool!”_ echoed through the metal. He made his way to his kitchen, pulling out the ingredients for a bare-boned sandwich. “JARVIS.”

“Yes sir?”

“Place an order to have some groceries delivered. And call Bruce, tell him to come up right away.”

Tony made the food in a daze, mind locked on the brilliant _homeless_ boy in his restroom, a brilliant homeless boy that he'd found atop his skyscraper, and poured them each a large glass of milk. It wasn’t until he was done that he realized that the kid should have been out by now. Could he not figure out how to get the door open? You just had to walk at it. Aw shit, what if he’d somehow engaged the autolocks?

“JARVIS, how’s the kid?”

“He has left, sir.”

Tony started. “What?”

“The young man you were speaking with has left the pent house, sir.”

Tony flew around the bar, staring at the closed elevator doors. He hadn’t heard the elevator arrive, or even be summoned. “When? How?”

“About five minutes ago, sir. I believe he went out through the –”

“Oh, _fuck.”_

“– balcony.”

Tony was already charging through the apartment before the AI had finished, nearly skidding into the glass doors when they didn’t open fast enough. The Alpha turned about frantically, searching for any sign of the boy.

“JARVIS,” he barked, stepping back until his back hit the railing, head craned to search for any sight of him on the roof, “where is he?”

“He climbed over the side, sir.”

“He _what?”_ Tony snarled, the sound high pitch with disbelief, and he turned around so quickly he nearly fell, searching the sides for any sight of the (suicidal?) child. “Fuck, tell me he didn’t fall.”

“No sir, I believe he is climbing down the side of the Tower.”

“What – _how?_ Why didn’t you tell me?” He snapped, rushing towards the elevator, barely remembering to grab a jacket as he went. Holy shit, if that stupid kid fell!

“I didn’t think it was required of me, sir.”

“Remind me to update your protocols when I get back.”

“Yes, sir.”

The elevator doors binged open and Tony rushed in and past a surprised and very concerned looking Bruce, slamming the _L_ button so hard his finger hurt.

“Tony?”

“I’ll explain later.” He said to the Omega, running a hand through his hair in disbelief. “JARVIS, override all stops. Straight to the bottom, as fast as you can get me.”

But in the end it didn’t matter, because no matter how long Tony had waited – or paced the block the compound was on – the kid didn’t show up.

* * *

The ball was a strange mix of mind-numbing boredom and incredibly festive. Steve was introduced to the King (which had been utterly nerve racking, even with the Crowned Prince by his side to ensure it went well) and Freyr was a strange, quiet kind of man. There was no doubting that he was someone with great power, nor that he was an Alpha of notable prowess, but there was a sort of reserved air – an aura of disinterest around him that Steve didn’t quite know how to handle. The most emotion Steve had seen out of him was when the Omega-Queen Greðr arrived – later even then Steve – and the Omega had watched, slightly surprised, at the warm smile that had blossomed across Freyr’s face. He took his wife’s hand as she rounded the raised high-table, pressing a kiss to the palm of her hand before pulling her seat out for her.

When in moments her of sitting, Freyr’s face had been void of all emotion once more. It was off putting, to say the least. Jöl (or rather Fjölnir, as Steve ought to start calling him) had only earned a head nod and Steve even less than that. They feasted first, a meal that was heavy with meats and breads, the spread brightened up with vegetables that came in every shape and color, and the ballroom was filled with soft sounds of talking and the pleasant string music.

Steve had eaten hesitantly, unsure of what he was supposed to be doing and aware of the many eyes on him. He’d been sat to the right of the King, just after Queen Greðr. The right hand of the King’s table was always reserved for the female Betas and Omegas of his household, and Steve’s positioning was a very public declaration of his importance and standing in court as the Omega-Ward of the King.

It made him terribly uncomfortable, just sitting there trying to eat his meat and potatoes while an honest-to-god _Queen_ ate next to him. The Omega tried to ignore his unease and by the time dessert was served, Steve was actually feeling some degree of calm. The dessert trays were crowded with various delights, all brightly decorated and delicate looking, and Steve felt overwhelmed by the sight of them all. A hand plucked a fluffy cake-square from it and placing it on Steve’s plate.

He glanced over to the side, surprised to find Greðr watching him, a small smile on her face. “Try this, my dear. It’s quite delicious.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, your Serene –”

“Please, just call me Greðr.” The older Omega soothed, pouring Steve a healthy amount of mead. Steve had been drinking the alcoholic mead carefully; the healers had been very thorough in explaining what could happen if he became dehydrated because he was drunk, and he was to have a flask of Iðunn’s mead at his side throughout the night. Tóra had been very up front – one glass of non-alcoholic of mead with each alcoholic one he drank, and should Steve fail to follow such simple directions, he would never have the chance to drink again. “Or you may call me your Lady,” Greðr said with a warm smile, “what ever you are comfortable with. You are, after-all, family now.”

“I…” … _have no idea what to say to that_ , Steve thought as he grasped his fork hard enough that the silver bent slightly. Greðr’s warm hand rested over top his own, squeezing lightly.

“It’s quite alright,” the Queen said, voice soft enough just for Steve to hear, “this can all be quite overwhelming, can't it?” The younger Omega nodded mutely. Greðr’s voice took on a distant tone as she cut the cake up for Steve until it – impossibly – resembled some sort of flower, “do you know, I was not born a noble?”

“No, I didn’t.” Steve said quietly, fork hovering, unsure if he should destroy the impressive impromptu art.

“Of course one’s birth doesn’t matter much now-a-days, the worlds have grown more,” Greðr made a dismissive movement with her hands, “progressive. But when I was girl, in the days before the Aesir-Vanir War, it was quite unheard of. I was a blacksmith’s daughter. I caught my Lord-husband’s attention when he came to visit. I can still remember my first royal meal; by the realms, but the high-table seemed a thousand feet tall.”

Steve could only nod his agreement, looking over the decorative wood to the seeming endless tables laid out horizontally in front of it, each packed with merrymakers. Most were busy with their own conversation and food, but more than one face was turned to watch the high-table. He’d been in front of crowds before, had commanded men in battle, and nothing compared to this moment – to the full realization that Steve had somehow become the equivalent of a _Prince,_ and these people counted as his vassals.

“I know it seems impossible, but it does it get easier. You never quite get used to it, not in the way those born into it do, but it does get easier.” Queen Greðr said with a sigh. “But, enough. Tonight is a merry night.” All at once the Omega stood, the motion making silence fall upon the giant hall. “Let us dance.”

From where he sat, Steve paled even further.

* * *

Thor could still feel Jane on his lips when he appeared back in Heimdall’s rest. He felt both refreshed by his visit with her and yet somehow even more confused. He had thought that seeing her again would sweep away any doubts he had, but instead Thor felt like he only had been left with even more questions. Jane had been so tender and sweet, so kind and loving, even when faced with another lengthy period of separation. And yet – and yet Thor still –

“Welcome back, my son.” Freya greeted from where a low backed bench had been brought for her to sit in. An outfit – Thor’s for the ball no doubt – hung on a stand behind it. His mother set her small weave down, standing with the grace she all but renowned for. Thor met her in the middle of the rest, pressing a kiss upon her cheek.

“Thank you, Mother. I hope you were not waiting long.” The Alpha apologized, well aware that he’d pushed the visit to the absolute limit of allotted time.

Freya patted his chest. “It is of no matter, Heimdall kept me company. However, you are quite late for your uncle’s ball and I am in mood to deal with Freyr’s whining. Do hurry.”

Thor chuckled, kissing her knuckles. Freya was the eldest of the twins by a handful of minutes, and yet had always lorded it over his ‘younger’ brother whenever she had the chance. “Of course, Mother.”

He stripped to his smalls quickly, laying his dirty clothing over top his mother’s waiting arms. Freya’s face wrinkled. “What is that smell?”

“Jane’s perfume.” Thor said, amusement growing as he stepped onto a waiting mat, “be kind. Midgardian noses are not as strong as ours. It is not meant to be so overwhelming.”

The mat activated, Thor shivering when a cleansing wave swept over his body, removing the sweat and dirt of the day. While Thor – and most everyone else – preferred the real thing, he was more than familiar with portable cleansers; they were irreplaceable when one was out in the field.

“I see. Well, I’m glad you enjoyed your dalliances.”

“Jane is not a dalliance.” Thor said with a small smile as he buckled his pants. His mother had spoken on Jane frequently, and while he knew that Freya was not yet ready for her son to mate – to enter that chapter of his life – he knew that she held no ill will towards the Midgardian Omega. “And I’ll have you know that nothing untoward happened, not that it is any of your business Mother.”

“Truly?” Freya’s surprise mirrored Thor’s own, and he said nothing as he pulled his tunics on. Jane’s attentions had hardly been unwanted, nor unwarranted. How many nights had Thor lain awake with nothing but his own hand and imagination to keep his company? And of those nights, how many of them had been filled with thoughts of Jane’s beauty? And yet when she had tried to engage him, Thor had felt no answering flair of arousal, no want. Thor was hardly known as one with restraint in such matters, even for all that his exile had made him a changed man, but yet still - nothing. Only a strange, deep-routed guilt that Thor refused to acknowledge or foster, because if it did it would mean –

It would mean…

Some of what he felt must have shown on his face because Freya appeared before him, taking the broach that had been held forgotten in his hands and clasping his cape to his shoulder, her hands resting over the carved valknut. “I will come to see you after the ball. I feel we have much to talk about.”

Thor gave his mother a grateful smile. “I would like that. And I believe it would be good for Steven to meet –” The Alpha stilled mid-word, eyes widening. Steven. _Steven._ Guilt overtook him; how could he have forgotten his promise? “How late did you say I am?”

“Two hours,” Heimdall spoke, head turning minutely to watch him, “though worry not, my Prince. Your cousin, Prince Fjölnir, was there to guide the Captain through is first court introduction.”

“Yes, that’s…good.” Thor said, voice oddly strained and completely missing the knowing look his elders shared, “I will have to thank him. Heimdall, if you would. I am already quite late.”

* * *

Fjölnir’s grin was so boisterous, Steve wanted to punch it off. “I bet you thought you were going to make it the whole night without anyone forcing you to dance. Sadly for you, my mother is an insistent woman.”

Steve said nothing, concentrating on moving his feet into the proper position without looking down. Fjölnir frowned, but before he could speak again the music started up. The tune was slightly more upbeat than what Steve had practiced to, but Fjölnir whispered directions to what little changes there were as they went along and if there was one thing that Steve was good at, it was taking direction, and he somehow managed not to humiliate himself.

“Are you not going to speak to me? At all? The whole night?”

“You’re not a pig farmer.” The Omega stated dryly, keeping his gaze locked onto the Prince’s collar bone.

“Well, that’s an improvement.” Fjölnir said with a hearty laugh, “though not the kind I was looking for. You truly thought I was pig farmer?” Steve’s stern glare caused the laugh to die off awkwardly. The handsome Alpha sighed. “I am sorry, my deception wasn’t on purpose. When I realized you had no idea who my grandfather –” his grandfather, the _former King_ of Alfheim, of whom Steve had sat at his feet and been _flirted_ with, “ – or myself, it was just too good an opportunity to pass up. I had meant to tell you, but you never did come back down to the pig grounds.”

There was another sigh at Steve’s continued silence.

“You must try to understand. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to meet people? To truly meet them? No one wishes to be Jöl the Pig Farmer’s companion, all they all wish is to befriend Fjölnir, the Crown Prince. And female Betas or Omegas?” Steve let himself glance up at Fjölnir’s hopeful face, curious even though he had a feeling of how this was going to go. “All they see is a chance to steal not my heart but by throne. If I am guilty of anything, it is of wanting to have one real conversation with a very pretty Omega.”

Steve felt his face burn hotly, eyes dropping back down to the Prince’s collar. “I guess I can see what you’re saying. I kind of faced the same thing back home, particularly with Alphas.” He admitted. “I just don’t like feeling tricked.”

“I swear to you, it was never my intention to make you feel like that.”

The music cut out, the dancers coming to a stop as the booming voice of the announcer read off Thor’s name and title. Steve’s head shot towards the ball room entrance and felt the worry he’d felt on and off all night dissolve at the sight of Thor, standing tall and very handsome in his family’s colors, there.

His attention returned to Fjölnir as the music began again, only to find the Alpha watching him. “Do you always look for him so intently?”

Steve looked away, furious at the implications behind those words. “Thor is in a relationship, with –”

“Lady Jane Foster. Yes, I know. I swear the whole of the realms knows with how loudly he declared it upon his return.” Fjölnir’s voice pleasant, but with an undertone of steel to it. “And yet your breath catches at the mere mention of his name. He will never look at you in that way, my dear.”

“I don’t want him –”

He was suddenly pulled even closer against Fjölnir’s side, the arm around his waist possessive in its promise. “But I could.”

“W-What?”

“I could look at you as if the sun rose and set only on your commands. If you would let me.”

“You barely know me.” Steve managed to get out, stunned and dizzy by the confession (or perhaps by the mainly turns they were doing on the dance floor). “You met me once.”

“When my father was a boy they used to say that’s all it took.” The Alpha countered, leading them through another complicated spin. “I do not know how these things are done in your world, but I would like to court you.”

“Court me?” Where the hell had this all come from? Steve shook his head, ducking it until he all he could see of Fjölnir’s face was his – admittedly very lovely – lips. Did he want to be courted? This all seemed to be happening so fast, Steve was still getting used of his new lifestyle – to his new lifespan – and then there was the Aether to think about. Even if he was utterly sure he was ready for a relationship, Steve would allow nothing to come of it until he was no longer a threat. “Fjölnir, you know that I came here because my health isn’t…good…right?” He asked slowly, unsure of how much the Prince may have been told.

“Yes, of course.”

Well, that didn’t tell him very much at all, did it? Steve sighed and continued on vaguely the best he could. “I couldn’t do anything until that is resolves. And,” Steve paused, voice growing firmer, “and I could never agree to something like – that, without knowing the Alpha better.”

There was a sigh. “Fair enough, and I could never hold such reasonable, responsible thoughts against you. Come hunting with me tomorrow, I will show you my hawks.” Steve frowned, staring up at the Prince as the song drew to a close, but Fjölnir interrupted him before he could speak. “Not as a courting date, but as friends. Allow me to endear myself to you with friendship, as I have no doubt that I will.”

Steve laughed, somewhere between taken aback and endeared at the Alpha’s tenacity. “I would like to see more of Alfheim – but only as friends.”

“Of course,” Fjölnir promised, smirk wide, “as friends. And step back, and bow. And we’re done. You survived your first dance quite beautifully.”

“Indeed he did.” Thor’s voice commented and Steve turned, mouth drying slightly at the sight of his friend making his way across the floor, the crowd parting beneath his sure steps. Thor always looked vaguely to stupidly handsome, but dressed in his full regalia he was something else. His hair was half pulled up in a ponytail, the other half loose to fall around his shoulders, and the honey color of his hair and the tan of his skin was brought out sharply by the blood red of his cape. He gambeson was a deep, dark black, and the tunics underneath it were somehow darker still,with a intricate pattern stitched in with gold. His lowers were wrapped in equally dark leather, so dark that you couldn’t tell where his boots and leather leggings began. All together it made him look unworldly, even amongst his Vanir kin and the fey Light Elves. Fjölnir made an annoyed sound under his breath and Steve glanced away quickly, aware all at once he was staring.

“Would you be so kind as to grace me with this next dance, Steven? I think I would like to see for myself just how well my teaching stuck.” Thor asked, offering his hand with a friendly smile, but the Omega didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered to Fjölnir.

“Sure.” Steve answered awkwardly, taking the Alpha’s outstretched hand, painfully aware that with no music playing and therefore no couples dancing he’d once again found himself at the center of attention. “You’re late, by the way.”

Thor chuckled at the reprimand, and Steve tried not to let the shiver he felt show when the Alpha’s large hand followed the draping of his sash up and across his waist to wrap around him. His breath felt caught in his lungs when Thor tugged him close, until their chests nearly touched, his gloved hand slipping into Thor’s bare one.

“I am sorry that I was so late.” Thor offered, his voice so low it was barely more than a breath across Steve’s cheeks.

“It’s okay,” the Omega mumbled, trying – and failing – to ignore not only the crowd but Fjölnir’s watching eyes as the song began, “I know you had things you needed to do.”

Thor said nothing, but – and perhaps it was Steve’s imagination – he thought he saw a flash of guilt on the Alpha’s face. Steve could understand it; he would feel pretty horrible if he'd stood a friend up and Thor had been so helpful, so kind throughout all of this – surely he knew that one missed introduction didn’t mean much? If anyone understood duty, it was Steve Rogers.

“Besides, Prince Fjölnir helped me out.” He reassured, pausing halfway through the sentence to let Thor guide him through a strange half swirl and step, “so it turns out that pig farmer Jöl that I met wasn’t really a pig farmer.”

Thor laughed, the sound loud but oddly comfortable so close to his ear. “You thought my cousin was a pig farmer?”

“Well, he wasn’t exactly up front about who he was.” Steve answered with a snort, unwilling to be embarrassed by his mistake any more than he already had. He gave the Alpha a shrewd look. “Did you know?”

“That you thought my cousin was a pig farmer? How could I?”

“I told you his name.”

“Jöl is not as uncommon a name, nor nickname, as you may think my friend.” Thor said with a wide grin, but the smile faltered only a moment later. “Has it upset you?”

Steve shook his head. “No, not really. He told me it was hard to make friends when everyone was brown-nosing him, so I gave him a pass this time.”

“Brown-nosing?”

“Oh, uh, sucking up – I mean, trying to get on his good side because he was prince.” Steve made a face. “Sorry, I’m not used to having to be the one to explain colloquialisms; usually it’s the other way around.”

“Ah, I see. I’m going to lift you.”

“Lift what?”

“Just don’t look too stunned and keep your hands on my shoulders,” was the only warning Steve got before his hand was released and both of Thor’s were on his waist, lifting him up in the air. The Alpha took a step forward, turning them in a wild swing as Steve fought really hard not to look as thrown off as he really was, before sitting him back down in the spot they’d been before. “Well done, my friend. I could hardly tell your nerves save for your lack of color.”

“Oh sell it to someone else,” Steve snapped, cheeks and ears hot, “I looked like an idiot and you know it. You never once mentioned something like that in the lessons, you ass –”

“Lift.”

“Just keep laughing it up, bub,” the Omega warned as he was set down again, “I’ve punched out Hitler and your door’s security protocols unlock automatically for me.”

Thor sniggered, not even bothering to hide his smirk. “My dear Steven, I’m sure that threat would carry far more weight if I had a greater understanding of who Hitler was. Now smile; _lift.”_

Steve did as he was told, though he dug his nails as deep as into Thor’s shoulders as he could, knowing that the thick layers he wore would keep the Alpha from really feeling it. But unlike the previous lifts, Thor did not place him down right away. The music had burst into crescendo with the lift and now it was gently waning to a slow end, and Steve – along with the other Omegas and female Betas – remained in the air.

He blinked owlishly down at Thor, letting his talon-like grip loosen. His friend grinned up at him, blue eyes merry, and Steve was unsure of where he should look. He felt overly aware of the steadying grip on waist, of the way his hips and belly rested against Thor’s chest. As he continued to stare down Thor’s expression shifted, went softer somehow, and Steve swallowed hard at the sight of it. The music finally cut off and Thor let him down, and the slow slide of his body against the Alpha’s was far more sensual than it probably should have been. The hands on his waist flexed slightly, before releasing him.

“It would seem that I’m a better teacher than I imagined,” Thor praised, “well done.”

“Thanks.” Steve murmured, bringing a hand up to rub at his neck. “Can we be done with dancing for a bit?”

“Of course,” Thor said, guiding the Omega off the floor by the small of his back, “perhaps some fresh air is in order?”

“Sounds good to me.” He agreed quickly and the moment they stepped out onto the - frankly ridiculously sized – attached balcony styled garden Steve’s entire being felt lighter. “No offense to your family, but these things are tiring.”

“None taken; I’ve always found court life and functions trying.” Thor shrugged. “I always much preferred the cheerful inns or the mead halls my men frequent.”

“Tough luck you’re a crown Prince then.”

“Truly.” Thor said wryly as he flagged down a passing servant. “Let us see how long my aunt will allow us to terry out here, shall we?”

“Yes, please.”

Steve took the tankard of mead gratefully, Thor clinking his tankard against Steve’s, and it was only after he took a deep drink that he remembered he left the non-alcohol counterpart inside. Well, the Omega reasoned, it probably wasn’t that big of a deal. He’d make sure he went it and got it before he got another cup.

* * *

Steve was drunk.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been drunk.

It had been _years_ since Steve could get drunk and never had it been like it was now. Before the serum, the Omega often got really sick right away and had to be taken home, but now his changed body kept him in a fairly content, inebriated state. Tóla had appeared out of nowhere earlier with a stern rebuke both to Steve and Thor (mainly to Thor, to the Omega’s annoyance) and several flasks of Iðunn’s mead in various states of fullness lay on the ground next to him. There was enough alcohol in him to keep the chill of the night air away and Steve sat flat on his butt, relaxed at last. Thor had left him a while ago to relieve himself, promising to return with more heated honey-mead and hot cakes immediately, but that had been at least twenty minutes ago.

Or maybe not.

Steve was pretty drunk.

He’d really didn't had much experience being drunk. It felt…not as good as it had in the beginning. When he’d first started to notice he was lightheaded, it was fun. The alcohol helped loosen him up enough to actually enjoy the ball somewhat. It had also helped that Thor’s familiar presence had been with him since he’d arrived, helping the Omega feel more at ease, but now Steve was alone with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.

Unsurprisingly his drunken mind seemed focused on his current predicament and the Omega mused on it quietly as he sipped from his flask and stared up at the winter night sky. What could it possibly be like to live so long? Could Steve even handle it? He’d been raised as a human and his entire mindset had developed around the idea that he’d die in seventies or eighties, but now…that was, if the Aether even let him live that long.

He let out a deep sigh, head thunking hard against the tree trunk.

He missed Bucky. And Dugen. And Montgomery. And Jim. He missed everyone, so very terribly. The only real comfort that Steve had really had when he’d woken up was that he’d meet them again one day as despite everything, Steve was still religious. With everything he’d seen, he didn’t know if he believed in God, but he believed there was _something,_ and eventually he’d get to see his friends again. He supposed he still would, it just would take a little longer than he thought.

Surely they’d wait for him, wherever they were.

Right?

He hoped so. The idea of waiting so long to see them all was…was…

Steve blinked against the lump in his throat, bringing a hand up to rub at his eyes. He’d loose the Avengers too. They’d age and die, and Steve would just keep going. He’d have to just keep going. It was probably the alcohol, but suddenly the idea of it was just too much and –

– and Steve wanted his Ma.

The strength of it caught him off guard, making him choke slightly and his heart ache. His Ma had died when he’d been five (his Mom much later in his teens and most of Steve's childhood memories were full of her) but he could still remember his Ma in a vague sort of way. He remembered she’d been tall and strong, beautify marred only by the bone-tired exhaustion that had been her ever constant companion, and in Steve’s eyes there had been no finer Alpha alive. No matter how late – or sometimes how early – it was that she came home from work, his Ma had always had time for him. She’d pull him into her lap, always singing sweetly in English and Irish until Steve fell asleep in her arms.

When they’d had no money for coal or wood and Steve would be wide awake, so cold he couldn’t sleep, his mothers would bundle him up between them, his tiny body cradled against his Mom’s chest while his Ma would drape herself over them both, rubbing their cold limbs as she sang. Steve used to sing the songs to Bucky too, years later when they’d be cuddled up with a handful of other boys in the orphanage dorms, so cold that no one dared to move and let what little heat they’d gathered escape.

Steve was just drunk enough that the words left him now – slow and slightly slurred – a low, uneven timber that was only the barest amount of passable skill, and even that was only thanks to the vocal instructors the Army had given him for the shows – before they’d written him off as a lost cause, that is. He could never remember the Gaelic parts (not even when he was sober) so the song was shorter then it was meant to, and he was fairly sure he missed a verse or three, but he was alone and there was no one there to judge him for it.

Steve’s voice faded off towards the end, uncertain brows furrowed.

He couldn’t remember the rest of it.

He’d forgotten it.

Steve threw the flask away angrily. How could he have forgotten it? It was all he really had of his parents – the orphanage hadn’t let him take anything when they’d come for him, not that there had been anything to take from the hovel the Roger’s family called home. It was just another broken down one-room in a New York tenement building, filled with broken down ‘white-Negros,’ beaten to nothing by NINAs and the Depression.

Why was here? Why did this shit keep happening to him? Steve couldn’t control his parents chose to immigrate into a country that hated them, he couldn’t control that he’d been born the weakest of the runts, couldn’t control he’d been born an Omega no one could want. The serum – that, Steve would readily admit was his own fault, but how could he have known that it would lead to this?

How was he to know that he’d wake up nearly seventy years in the future with everyone and everything he ever lived or believed in dead? That he’d be facing a long eternity alone and afraid, that he was living every day in fear that this _alien creature_ inside him may overwhelm him and kill everyone around him? Wasn’t enough that he lost Bucky, the only man Steve could ever really call family? Or that he’d lost Peggy, the Alpha who’d reminded him so much of his mother, who Steve thought he may actually have a chance of happiness with? Why couldn’t he have just died in the ice?

It wasn’t fair that he was here, living and breathing, experience this madness that was Asgard and Alfheim, of fairy-tale balls and charming princes, when _everyone he knew was dead._ He should be _dead._ He should be, it wasn’t – he should be. Steve let out a choked sound of fury, bouncing to his feet and then just standing there, quivering, every inch of his body tensed and at the ready for a blow that wasn’t coming.

It wasn’t _fair._

And then, just like that, the storm of emotions in his chest just left and Steve was standing only by instinct, feet oddly light and breath ragged. He just felt hollow, and tired, and foolish at his own behavior. He ruefully brought his hands up to smooth his shirt front before sitting down once more, unaccountably grateful that he’d been alone when he let his drunken state whip himself into such a stupid, pointless fury. He’d had these type of fits before, and Bruce had made sure that Steve was more than aware of what PTSD and survivors guilt was, and the Omega wasn’t arrogant t enough to think he alone had somehow made it through the War without either.

Steve was still here because he just was.

There was no sense it, there was no rhythm or reason, he was still alive because he was. And that – that was it.

“Steven?”

Steve started, blinking hard at the sight of a concerned Thor, two mugs in balanced in one hand and a plate of hot cakes in the other. The Omega opened his mouth, then closed it, then tried again, grinning unevenly. “Did ya fall in?”

“What?” Thor closed the distance between them carefully, each step a measured thing. “Forgive me, was I gone too long?”

“Mm? No, not really.” Steve flexed his mouth, trying to lose the slur. “It’s fine, I’ve just been watching the stars.”

“It has just been you? No one else has come and upset you?”

“No,” Steve answered, slightly bewildered, “just me.”

“Then,” Thor hesitated, clearly unsure, “why are you crying?”

* * *

Steve physically jolted at Thor’s words, and the Alpha watched worriedly as he brought a hand up to wipe at his face, staring at the moisture darkened fabric of his gloves clearly bewildered. After a moment he shrugged, giving Thor that small grin that only made him more concerned. “Sorry, just drunk I guess. I’m not used to it. The serum usually burns it out of me.”

Thor nodded slowly, setting the drinks and cake down on the edge of a nearby fountain before joining his friend in the frosty grass. He leant backwards, arms spread wide to support his weight, and kept one just behind Steve in case his drunken friend tumbled backwards. “That is a terrible fate indeed, my friend. Perhaps you should have more of Iðunn’s brew.”

Steve waved the suggestion away. “I’ve been chugging that stuff for hours, I’m hydrated, just drunk.”

Thor chuckled. “Fair enough.”

He’d learned by now that babying Steve would do no good. He could try and keep a close eye on the Omega’s health, look for any signs that the drink may be doing him ill, but any outward primping or smothering would only push him further away. It had taken him so long to get Steven comfortable, that was the last thing Thor wanted. Instead he took in the breath taking sky of Alfheim and tried to enjoy the night.

“Thor?”

“Yes?”

“I miss…everyone.”

Thor’s confusion abated off into nothing, bitter understanding filling him in its stead. He himself had spent more than one drunken night lost to the memory of those he’d left behind on the battlefield. The life of the Aesir may be a long thing, but they were not immortal. “Grief is a strange thing,” He mused quietly, leaning heavier back onto his hands, “you think you are over a death a thousand times, until one moment you simply realize you are not.”

“Yeah.” Steve agreed, word lost almost entirely it was spoken so silently. “I don’t know if I ever want to be over it though. It feels wrong, like I’m being disloyal.”

“Yes,” The Alpha said just as softly, “it often does.”

He did not say anything more. He did not offer platitudes or try to reassure Steven that what he felt was completely valid, was normal, that Thor had seen – heard nearly those same words – from his own men, or that he’d experienced that binding guilt himself. They were not words that Steve needed; he knew them already, most likely understood and recognized their validity, yet they offered no comfort to a soldier’s guilt.

“Do you think they’ll wait?” The Omega asked after a moment, face so very vulnerable as he glanced over at him before quickly looking away. “My friends and family, I mean. Do you think they’ll wait for me?”

And Thor once again felt that great onus, the heavy burden his grandfather and father had left with him, because these were questions that no Midgardian should have to face. “Of course, my friend.” He finally gave in to the urge to touch, resting his hands on Steven’s nape in a gentle, comforting grip, and the younger blond leaned back into it. “We Asgardians believe that we form connections to the souls of our loved ones on a deep, fundamental level, and in a way that nothing – not distance or death nor time – can break.”

Steve nodded mutely before sighing and leaning completely into Thor’s touch and he had only moments to readjust his hold, wrapping his arm around Steven’s shoulder's instead of his neck to keep the drunken man before he tumbled backwards. Steve settled awkwardly across his chest until Thor readjusted, letting him rest against him back to chest. Steve's body was trembling slightly and the Alpha frowned, instantly worried. “Are you are cold?"

"A little.” Steven admitted and Thor unclasped his cloak at once and draped it around the smaller form, wrapping both his arms about his friend.

“We should go in.”

“Not just yet,” The Omega murmured, “let’s stay out just for a little while longer.”

While he had drunk far less then Steven he was hardly any more immune to it, not when faced with the meads brewed in Fjallgaurd, which were renowned for their potency. Steven was a warm and welcomed weight in his arms, and the Omega smelled of roses and the honey mead he’d been drinking, and Thor felt no urge to object or make either of them move. The night was peaceful, Alfheim’s winter skies clear for once and giving them a beautiful view of twinkling stars. The music from the party could only just be heard, muted and soft, and it gave the garden a strange fantasy-like twilight air to it. Thor was content to stay where he was, at least for a little longer.

“You know that I will care for you,” Thor said suddenly, surprising himself with the words as they left him, but he found meant them with everything he had. “Regardless of however long you live or where the Aether drives you, I will not leave you, my friend.”

Steven nodded, short hair brushing across his cheek and Thor froze, eyes wide, when lips were suddenly pressed just shy of his own – on the very crease of his lips and cheek. “You always take such good care of me.” Gloved fingers trailed over the back of his hands, before going still. “‘s good, a good Alpha.”

And then – nothing, the drunken man had drifted off, asleep and seemingly content, at unawares of the havoc his action and words had caused.

Thor brought a hand up to pull his cloak further up around the Omega’s chest, trying to ignore the shake to his hand. He let the hand rest against his friend’s chest, feeling each rise and fall of breath. Steven slept fully under the mead, eyes peaceful and unmoving, and Thor’s gaze drifted over the handsome features. They traced from pale, golden brows to thick lashes, and further down to full lips, whose warmth still haunted Thor’s skin. His hand shifted, tilting Steve’s face just so, and Thor’s breath caught, eyes locked on them. His heart beat frantically, yet his chest felt queerly heavy, and the Alpha felt helpless – as if drawn by some force outside of himself – and he leaned down, hesitating only a fraction of a second before their lips would have touched.

There was a flare of warning, a reminder of Jane and his own vows to her, to Steven, and the heat in his chest was so strong – the _want_ so strong, that Thor wavered, shocked, at the feel of it. The sound of a low growl broke through the moment, starting Thor back into reality. His head snapped up, tucking the Omega further against his chest as he sought out the sudden threat.

His cousin stood at the mouth of the small enclave they’d hidden at, Fjölnir’s face thunderous, and it struck him then, how dubious this must look. He was practically draped over Steven’s form, the Omega bound in his cloak and unconscious with drink. “This is not how it seems.”

Fjölnir took a step into the space, hands curling into tight fists by his side. “For your sake I dearly hope not, cousin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my. Oh my. The clue-stick hit Thor rather hard, didn't it? And what terrible timing! Or is it ;D How did you like Peter?
> 
> NINAs are 'No Irish Need Apply' signs that were put out following a wave of Irish immigrants came in the early 1900s. We don't do well with immigrants, we Americans. Keep that in mind when you see 'No Muslim' signs about. In case it wasnt clear, Steve's Ma/Mama is his Alpha Female parent, his Mom/Mommy is the Omega parent. This is the Irish Lullaby he sings to himself, just less Irish sounding and more drunk: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=eMIRt-psoAo
> 
> Also, a valknut (the symbol Thor' broach is carved into) is the symbol of Odin.


	10. A Turbulent Moment, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve nodded, too stunned to do anything else, and when Thor finally drew back the Omega collapsed against the table behind him, leaning on the wooden edge harshly as he watched the Aesir leave.
> 
> What...what the hell was that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG.
> 
> Sorry for the wait. Only excuse I have is that grad school is eating my free time. Un-betaed.

“Fjölnir,” Thor began, voice low as he eyed the furious features, “you must understand–”

“I must?” His younger cousin interrupted, eyes narrowed. “I must do _nothing,”_ the other Alpha took another step into the garden grotto, hands curling tightly and Thor felt his entire body tense as the aggressive move, arms tightening around the Omega, tucking Steven firmer against his cheek, “except discern your intentions, _cousin.”_

Thor bristled, insulted. Despite the fact that he and Fjölnir were only a handful of years apart (barely a decade) the Vanir prince had always treated Thor as his elder – with all the respect that entailed. To have his honor questioned so blatantly to his face made his precarious grip on his temper weaken. “My intentions are none of your concern, just as Steven is none of your concern. But as you have deemed it prudent to ask, my intentions are that of brotherhood in his time of illness.”

“Brotherhood?” Fjölnir repeated, voice mocking. “That was not the embrace of friendship. Steve is far too good a of a man–”

“Do not pretend that you know him.” Thor interrupted, hand twitching from where it had fallen free of Steven’s face, and unsure why he was so very _annoyed_ by the other Alpha's assumptions. “Nor that you have the right to speak on his behalf.”

“And you do? Am I to believe you had his best intentions in your heart just now?” Fjölnir snarled, loud and furious, and the temperature in the garden dropped several degrees, the air growing heavy and wet in response to the ocean god’s anger. In his arms, Steven let out a weak sound of confusion and both Alphas froze, watching wearily. But the blond only curled tighter into himself in response to the cold, turning his face into the warmth of Thor’s chest as he murmured nonsensically and then went still once more, and Thor tried not to see the action as such a victory when it made his cousin stiffen in dislike. But then Fjölnir let out a sigh, his anger suddenly gone, and brought a hand up run over the smooth slick of his hair.

“…I do not understand you. No, I do not understand any of the sons of Odin. How is it that the two of you have become so spoiled? Why is it that you and Loki believe you can have everything and have it not cost you any? You have chosen your Omega, Thor. She waits for you even now on Midgard, or do you think I, at least, do not know why you were late tonight?” Thor jerked back as if he had been struck, guilt unfolding heavily in his chest. Fjölnir spread his hands wide, looking lost. “I have always admired you, cousin, but this – I can’t not allow this. You are promised to another - it would be…it is too cruel.”

“Jöl –”

“Put him to bed, cousin. Alone.”

And then he was gone, leaving a bereft and confused Thor behind him.

* * *

Matt sung loudly as he boiled eggs for his ramen, the microwave a low hum in the background. He may not be an awesome cook (something, mind you, that had nothing to do with his blindness) but he’d turned elevating ramen into something more into an art. He’d already cut up some greens, put in some curry powder and sprouts, and the entire apartment smelled delicious.

In the background, James Brown was still screaming and Matt sang along, head bobbing with the tunes, and generally was feeling pretty good. The entire side of his left face and neck hurt like shit (some punk had gotten lucky with a plastic crate tray, of all things) and Matt knew from Foggy’s horrified voice that it looked nasty, but it honestly wasn't that bad. Foggy was starting to ask questions, and Matt knew he could only fall down or be jumped so many times before his friend just moved into his apartment on his own accord and started trying to keep Matt bubble wrapped twenty-four-seven.

“This is an Alpha's world,” Matt belted, off-tune but uncaring as he drained the eggs and flicked the stove off, “but it’d be nothing – _noooooooottttttthing_ – not one little thing, without an Omega or a girl.”

Suddenly hands were on his hips and Matt started, dropping the bowl with eggs onto the counter as he swung around, a fist flying out – only to be caught easily by a large palm. “Good instincts.”

“Holy _fuck,_ Clint.” Matt growled, slapping the Alpha with a dish towel. “Knock like a normal person, will you?”

“I did, I don’t think you could hear me over the dying cat.”

“Oh, aren’t you clever.” Matt sniped, turning back and feeling around the counter for the bowl. “I thought you were coming over around six – I didn’t leave the door unlocked, did I?”

Matt knew he didn’t and hid his grin when Clint gave the least convincing shrug. Clint’s ninja-spy abilities were like an open secret between them; it wasn’t like he really tried to hide any of it. Matt felt along the counter for where he placed the bowl he was going to cool the eggs in. He could just use his abilities, but it took a lot of mental concentration and with how often Matt had been using it as a vigilante, he preferred not to use it in his normal life unless he had to. It gave him a headache something terrible. The bowl was taken from his hands, Matt forcefully turned by his hips, and a large palm was suddenly tilting his head up and to the side. A questionable silence filled the apartment as the next song geared up and the Omega sighed.

“It’s not as bad as it looks. There’s this new guy at the gym, he’s really good. I love sparring with him, but he kicks my ass.” Matt lied with a grin, turning his face to nuzzle into the warm flesh. “Maybe you can give me some pointers.” The teasing fell flat and Matt gave in, concentrating hard as the fuzzy red that outlined his apartment slid into focus. He couldn’t really see the details of faces, but he could still see the unamused, displeased expression on Clint’s face. He slid his arms around a firm waist as he leaned into Clint, nuzzling the Alpha’s cheek and jaw, fluttering kisses across the bottom of his chin in an unhidden act of appeasement. “Clint, it’s okay, really.”

“Matt.”

The Omega shook his head, pulling back and away towards his half-prepared meal. “If we’re sharing – you first, big man.”

They had an understanding, the two of them. Matt didn’t ask what Clint did with his time and in exchange the Alpha didn’t ask about what Matt did. He was fairly certain that whatever Clint did was just as shady as how he spent his own time, so Matt saw it as a fair enough exchange. Though, the lawyer in him admitted begrudgingly, he knew that he also didn’t have to deal with Clint showing up in various stages of a good beating. Instincts were a hard thing to ignore, especially for Alphas, and why they may not have an actual name for whatever was going on between them, Matt was still the Omega Clint was fucking.

Matt had no idea what they were – if they were anything. Clint was like one of those strays Foggy massed around their college dorm; feed them once and they always came back looking for more. Not that Matt minded, there was just something about Clint that Matt couldn’t say no to.

The Alpha never treated him like he was delicate, like he needed to be swaddled and protected, something which as a disabled Omega Matt had struggled with his whole life. Clint let Matt do his own thing, would wait patiently as he struggled through a task the seeing eyes could do much quicker, and never pushed the issue when if he offered help and was declined. It was a type of man that Matt never thought he’d be able to find.

It was something that should probably worry him more, the ease with which Clint had fit into his life, but it had been so long since an Alpha made him feel like Clint did that Matt found himself unwilling to let himself examine it further. He let himself be pulled backwards against a broad chest, tension leaving his form as a warm mouth gently pressed against the bruised skin. “…I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“I know,” Matt soothed, hands brushing over Clint’s, “instincts.”

“Don’t do that.” The Alpha’s grip tightened around him. “Don’t cheapen what I’m trying to say by throwing my gender at me, you of all people should know better than that.”

Matt bit his lip, unsure. A part of him wanted to play it off with a laugh, to end this conversation before it could be complicated, to keep things in this gray place that had been working for them so well. But another part of him desperately wanted to put a name to whatever was happening between them – even if it was the last sort of complication he needed in his life right now.

Foggy had called him out on it just the other day; one-night stands and fuck buddies didn’t do what he and Clint were doing. They didn’t come over so frequently that Matt had started finding Clint’s clothing in his laundry, or have a spare toothbrush that materialized in Matt’s holder, or scent each other before parting…not after a handful of weeks of knowing each other. Scenting was Matt’s favorite part of Clint’s visit (besides the mind blowing sex, of course). There was something so uniquely comforting about curling up against the Alpha’s broad chest, drinking his scent deeply from the junction of his neck, Clint’s nose tucked behind his ear.

Matt took a deep breath, letting his head fall back to rest against the Alpha’s shoulder. “…okay.”

There was a lite bite to his neck, just enough pressure to send a shiver down his spine. “Good.”

* * *

Morning found Steve awake and bright eyed with anticipation, even if he was embarrassed at the idea of having gotten so drunk that he was unsure how he’d made his way home last night. And he found even the awkward act of having his Omegas-in-waiting (two twin Vanir men who had apparently been assigned to serve him, much to Steve’s horror, that had appeared in his rooms the night of the ball) dress him could damper his excitement. He was going outside of the castle complex. Fjölnir had kept his word and the blond had awoken to a request for an early morning ride that would take them far up into the surrounding mountains.

Finally, a chance to really get out from under the eyes of his minders. It felt like forever since Steve had been able to do anything. The idea alone got him through being dressed like a doll and Steve resolutely kept his distaste from his face as his…butlers, guards?…helped him into the clothing. Vanir styles were more delicate, then their Aesir cousins, more artistic and flowing, and as always, the outfit’s colors were limited to the blues, silvers, grays, and whites of his adoptive house. Steve was glad that the colors worked well with his complexion as they seemed to be the only colors he ever wore anymore.

A pair of cotton leggings went on first, thick and heavy to fight the cold, followed by a pair of pale brown leather riding trousers. They were incredibly flexible despite how tight they were, and Steve did his best not to blanch when he saw just _how_ tight they rested on him. The leather actually lifted his rump somewhat and the front left very little to the imagination. A butter soft, long sleeved chemise of the same off white of his leggings went on next, but to Steve’s apprehension what little that fell past his waist was tucked into his pants. He was just about to object, concerned that the pants may actually make him look somewhat indecent, when a dove grey, long sleeved woolen tunic was pulled on.

Thankfully it rested low, ending just above his thighs, and Steve let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in relief as it hid some of the tightest aspects of the riding trousers. It was surprisingly simple in design, with only a handful of embroidered designs on the sleeves, but the thick linen jacket of a deep sapphire color that was pulled on over top made up for it was an elaborate knot design that repeated across even the platted puffs. Finally a pair of brown, knee-high leather boots and a bright, metallic silver belt was wrapped around his natural waist, tied into something complex that made the knot appear almost like a flower.

But even when Steve was congratulating himself on escaping the primping without showing any of his disgruntled feelings, he was being pushed into a seat and a stiff boar’s bristle brush was forcing his short hair back. Steve’s face twisted in dislike, glaring at the ground as _rose water_ was brushed through it, then a stronger version of the scent dabbed just below the scent glands on his neck.

“Now, now,” one of the Omegas, a young brunet named Kvígr, clucked, “we’re almost done. Besides, don’t you want to look your best for the Prince?”

Steve sent the cheerful Omega his strongest glare, but it deflated at the genuine good cheer and intent on the Vanir’s face. “This is – I’m not used to this. I’m a soldier.”

“So?” Næstr, Kvígr somehow even more cheerful twin asked. “Kvígr is one of the best spearmen in the city and I’m no novice when it comes to a sword and shield myself. Just because we’re warriors doesn’t mean we can’t look stunning as we as behead our enemies.”

“Well said, little brother.” Kvígr agreed with a wink as he helped Steve to his feet and pinned a length cloak made entirely of grey fur into place. He pulled the hood up, straightening it just so, before stepping back, hands on his hips as he observed the awkward looking supersoldier. “You must never be afraid to use everything the gods have given you, my lord. You are far too pretty to be hidden behind mismatched clothing or ill placed colors.”

“Or,” Næstr said as he approached, Steve’s shield in one hand and a short sword in the other, “the finest of weaponry.” The Omega glanced down at his shield in open lusri. “‘Tis a fine shield, of the like I’ve never seen before.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, smiling openly as he took the metal, feeling it trill in recognition of his touch, “its always served me well. We’ve been through a lot, me and this shield.”

“I can only imagine,” Næstr said wistfully, “perhaps you could tell us a few tales of your exploits? If you wish it, that is.”

Kvígr nodded eagerly. “It has been explained to us that this is all quite new to you, milord, and that our presence may be…unsettling, for you. However, my brother and I have no want for that. There are so few Omegas in Fjallgaurd. We would like, that is, we hoped…that perhaps we could be friends?”

They were both looking at him with such earnest hope that Steve found himself nodding dumbly before he’d even really processed the request. The matching smiles he was given were almost blinding. And with that he was being pushed out of his rooms and into the hallways, a pair of leather gloves pressed into one hands and a short sword in the other. Steve blinked at the weapon in surprise and a low laugh caught his attention.

Fjölnir had apparently been waiting for him, his expression amused as he stepped forward and took the weapon from his hands. “I see you’ve meet Hróðmarr’s sons. They’re quite spirited.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Steve agreed, watching attentively as the sword belt and frog were secured against his waist. His shield was a comforting presence against his back, as was the sword when it came to rest against his hip, and the Omega was surprised at how much having weapons made him feel more confident and secure. “Will we need these?”

“Most likely not, but we are venturing out without guards. It is more for the comfort of my mother than anything else.” Fjölnir said as he finished tightening the belt, a large hand stilling to rest on his hip. Steve blinked at the limb, feeling his face blush as it squeezed lightly. “I’m glad you agreed to come out with me, Steve.”

Fjölnir’s voice was warm, as was his grin, and the blond blushed as the hand finally withdrew, before clearing his throat. “I’m pretty excited myself. It’s not that keep isn’t great – because it is! Like something out of one of the fairytales my parents used to tell me when I was a kid – but I’ve been dying to get outside.”

The prince laughed, the sound clear and content, as he tucked Steve’s hand into the crook his elbow and lead them towards the elevator. “Well then, I’ll strive not to disappoint. Wait until you see the glaciers, Steve. They only settle so close to the city in the winters and their color – a clear, perfect blue of the likes you’ve never seen before. And all save the great river are frozen so far from the sea, and the shapes the ice makes are like art.”

Steve grinned, shifting solely to feel to his shield echo the movement. “It sounds great. I want to see it all. Everything.”

* * *

His rooms had been brought to a cozy warmth to fight the cold of the winter air, yet Thor found no comfort in it. He leaned against one of the great windows that flanked his sitting room, shoulder chilled by the icy glass, and stared out over the snowy swells that surrounded the city.

“Where are you, my son?” His mother asked quietly from where she sat, sipping her tea before a mammoth fireplace. Thor tore his eyes away from Alfheim – from the hills that even now held Steven, his ride stretching long into the evening – to glance at her. She’d come at her own behest, but the young Alpha-Prince could not deny that her presence was greatly appreciated. His mother was like that, somehow always knowing when Thor needed her and appearing unsummoned. “Your thoughts way heavily,” Frigga observed, patting the cousin next to her, “will you not share their burden with me?”

Thor reluctantly stood and went to her, though he chose to lean against the mantle, staring into the fire’s burning embers. Frigga, knowing her son well, simply waited him out. Thor had slept very little after he had followed his cousin’s commands and put Steven to bed.

Alone.

A mere month and a half ago and the idea of anything else would have seemed absurd; insulting even. And yet now…Thor could not lie to himself, not in the aftermath of the burning need he’d felt last night. He’d spent most of the night going over his actions – and Steven’s – at the ball, trying to understand what had driven him to complete that half-kiss that the Omega had initiated. And when he had finally slept (only a handful of hours before the sun’s rays brought him wide awake) it had been to dreams that had made his cock hard and his confused shame even stronger.

Those dreams haunted him even now. The image of Steven bare and wanton in his bed, hands curled around the deep blue of his sheets, lips parted in a pant, scent strong with arousal and need, legs parted for Thor’s bulk…he shook his head, banishing the alluring image. He was in love with Jane. He…was…

“Mother,” his voice was quiet, and unsure in a way it hadn’t been since he’d been much younger, “is it possible to love two people? I mean, to love them dearly. Wholly?”

There was a soft _‘clink’_ as Frigga’s teacup was placed in its saucer, and then his mother was by his side, expression free from judgement as she too stared into the flames. “It is not unheard of.”

Thor let out a breath of relief, feeling somehow freer with the admission. His affections for Jane were still there, but he would be a fool if he did not admit his growing interest and attraction to Steven. Thor had always believed it impossible to love two romantically, that it was even dishonorable, but perhaps…perhaps his struggle wasn’t as unheard of after all.

But his mother’s next words drove the relief from him utterly. “Though it is not a balance that can be maintained. Nor should it. It is a very cruel thing, Thor, perhaps even the cruelest.”

Her words echoed – however unknowingly – his cousin’s so thoroughly that Thor’s eyes shut in weariness. “I do not know what to do. I care for Jane, I do. But I have found a fondness for Steven as well. Though I have tried to deny it, I feel it growing every moment I spend with him. I do not wish to be untrue, or cruel, to anyone. I am – I don’t know how I have gotten here. I feel as though I am standing on the precipice of a great cliff somehow, and I can’t find my way back to stable ground.”

A warm hand cupped his cheek, guiding his trouble glance to his mother’s concerned face. “My poor boy.” She tugged gently and Thor went easily with the motion, burrowing his face in Frigga’s neck, inhaling her soothing scent deeply. Her fingers combed through his hair, freeing it from its binding and fanning it about his shoulders. For a long moment they simply stood like that, mother and son, entwined tightly around each other. But then Frigga was pulling away, her face serious despite its tender expression.

“I feel for you, my son. This is no easy plight you have found yourself in.” She took him by his hand, leading him across the space of his sitting room to where another set of windows overlooked the stable courtyard far below.

Thor felt himself stiffen, jaw tightening at the sight of Steven atop a fair colored rouncey, Fjölnir dismounting his own dark colored destrier. Steven was laughing about something, entire expression cheerful and happy, cheeks reddened from the winter air and excitement. As he watched his cousin handed his reins to a waiting boy and approached Steven, face teasing. Whatever he said caused the Omega to laugh again, leaning over at the waist to reply, a glove hand poking the other prince sharply in the forehead. Fjölnir’s expression grew cunning and even more playful, and Thor swallowed harshly as a sharp, unexpected tug sent a laughing Steven tumbling from his saddle and into the Alpha’s waiting arms.

Fjölnir lifted him easily, throwing him over his shoulder as he made as if to carry the blond off, but Steven threw his weight gracefully, sending his cousin tumbling on his ass while Steven twisted and landed lightly on his feet, dancing away from the stunned Alpha with a laugh. After a moment he approached again, offering a hand and pulling Fjölnir to his feet. The two chuckled together as their hands worked in tandem to brush the hay and snow from the younger Prince’s outfit, and Thor inhaled sharply when Fjölnir caught the Omega’s covered hand, bringing it up to place a kiss on the inner wrist. Steven watched the move as if entranced, head ducking down, clearly embarrassed and yet…and yet still pleased.

“You have made no promises to Steven,” Frigga said gently, watching the scene below neutrally. “And he has no reason to wait for one.” She tightened her hand around Thor’s, her expression stern as she turned her attention to her son. “Nor should he. Do not forget that there are more hearts in play here than just your own. Either your affections are solely his, or they are Jane’s, and not at all. You cannot have both.”

She brought his hands up to her lips, brushing a kiss against his knuckles, and then left him to his troubled thoughts.

* * *

“Did you enjoy your ride?”

“Thor!” Steve jumped, clutching his cloak to his chest in surprise and had a moment of thankfulness that he’d already set his shield and new sword on their rack by the door. “You scared me. How long have you been here?”

The Alpha was sitting in the middle of his greeting room, body tense in a large stuffed chair. Steve eyed him wearily as he laid the cloak over a nearby chair. He turned from his friend, unsettled by the air of aggravation and tension that seemed to radiate around the taller blond, and busied himself with stripping his over clothes off.

“I had a great time, actually. It was swell to be outside again. I mean, really outside. In the wild, I guess. Fjölnir showed me some seriously impressive stuff; you were right, Alfheim is gorgeous, even in winter. I can’t wait to see it in Spring and Summer.” There was a creak behind him and Steve’s hands froze for a moment, before he continued peeling his gloves off, setting them on a nearby table. “We took lunch up on the glacier. It was pretty impressive. You’d never see anything like that on Earth.”

“And my cousin,” Thor’s voice was right behind him now, “you enjoy spending time with him?”

Steve froze mid-unbutton of his jacket. What kind of question was that? In truth, Fjölnir had been fun. The Alpha was seemingly always cheerful by nature, quick with a joke and a story, and the longer the ride had gone on the more Steve had found himself relaxing besides him. It didn’t hurt that Fjölnir was very handsome. Like Thor, he had that strange, storybook beauty about him, and the way he’d pampered and attended to Steve made him feel…well, pampered. And yet it had never bordered on insulting, never once did Steve feel like some sort of kept Omega, never once did Fjölnir talk down to him or forget that Steve was a solider. A captain. An Avenger.

Such a thing would have been unheard of when Steve had been growing up, and even in modern times equal treatment between Alphas, male Betas, Omegas, and female Betas was still struggle. But Fjölnir was just as quick as to share a dirty limerick between the two of them, so similar to his soldiering past, just as quick as he was to offer his hand for Steve to dismount. It was…sweet.

“Fjölnir was fine.” Steve said slowly, unsure of what was happening or how to respond. “He was kind and respectful, if that’s what you’re asking. An excellent tour guide. I think we could be friends.”

“You were gone a long time.”

“He showed me a lot of things.” He forced himself to turn, refusing to be intimidated, and found Thor standing less of than a step away, expression unreadable. “Did I miss something?”

He raked his brain, but Steve couldn’t think of an appointment or meeting he may have broken. Thor leaned forward and the Omega felt his heart stutter at how close they were, close enough that he could feel the Alpha’s breath curl against his jaw, then felt it skip again when a hand was suddenly cupping his cheek and jaw. His hands were gathered in Thor’s larger one and pressed against the warm velvet of his tunic.

“You’re frozen through.” Thor said quietly, and as Steve watched the Alpha’s blue gaze dropped from his eyes to his chapped lips. A thumb brushed over his bottom lip, the calloused skin catching slightly on the raised dry patches. The digit rested there, just on the plumpest part of the lip, before resting just below it, the action pulling his lip out and down before it slid back up. Thor’s eyes darkened as he watched it, the grip on his hands tightening. Steve fought to keep his breathing steady, even as he knew his chest was rising much faster than normal, his own eyes locked on Thor’s face. “…you should bathe. I’ll order us dinner. I’d like to eat in private tonight if that is alright with you. I’ll tell your Omegas they’re not needed further tonight.”

Steve nodded, too stunned to do anything else, and when Thor finally drew back the Omega collapsed against the table behind him, leaning on the wooden edge harshly as he watched the Aesir leave.

_What...what the hell was that?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, Thor. I hope you know what you're doing. Up next: maybe a kiss, definitely an attack, and shit goes nuts.


	11. A Turbulent Moment, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No,” Steve agreed quietly, “but it still happened. I’m still a danger. Your father was right. I’ll bring death to anywhere I go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed. 
> 
> As always, your guys continued support inspires me. Enjoy. The poem used in this chapter is from the TV show the Vikings, which is in turn a romanticized version of an old Viking battle poem called Battle of Brothers, by a poet named Darraðarljóð (Try pronouncing that, lol).

Thor took only a handful of steps into his own quarters before coming to a halt. For a long moment he simply stood, hands flexing open and closed by his side, then – completely on impulse – he made a beeline towards the nearest bathroom. A flick of the wrist had the shower turning on as hot as it could go and the young Prince was stepping under the waters completely clothed. He jolted backwards out of instinct, the hot water causing his skin to flare pink, but he didn’t pull away from the burn.

He leaned his forehead against the smooth stone, letting the hot rivets of water seep down his neck and utterly soak his tunic, and let out a long, ragged sigh. What, exactly, had that display been about? His mind split off into several different directions, almost all some different sort of rumination for his fool hardiness. Thor knew that his actions had confused and perhaps even unnerved his friend, yet when Steven had come in from his ride smelling so strongly of his cousin – with Fjölnir’s very scent saturated seemingly skin deep…well, it had been as if he’d been unable to stop his actions.

The idea of Fjölnir pursuing the Captain made Thor’s very skin itch. He should have seen this coming, the Alpha thought with a self-deprecating snort. Steven was beautiful and he had seen his cousin’s interest that night in the ball, so obvious that it had unnerved him enough to steal Steven from him the moment he could. He hadn’t even bothered with the required niceties of greeting his uncle and aunt. That alone should have been enough to force Thor to face his shifting feelings, never mind the weeks that had preempted it.

Weeks of a closeness of likes he had shared with Steven was something that Thor had never experienced with anyone that he did not call ‘kin.’ Even in war Thor was almost always given a tent to himself, given the space his title demanded even if he had not wanted it. But with Steven…since the Omega had left Midgard they had spent very little time apart, and there had been more than one occasion that – in hindsight – seemed to scream to Thor of his changing interests in the younger blond.

And yet…and yet it had still taken that almost kiss in the garden, with Steve so warm and pliant in his arms, to make Thor truly understand what was happening. Or perhaps it wasn’t an understanding that he’d gathered, but more that he had finally been forced to face what he had been feeling. His mother’s words echoed in his mind, the final blow to the denial Thor had been so steadily trying to maintain.

He had feelings for Steven.

Thor did not want it. He didn’t want to think that he could harbor romantic interest in the Omega, because then what would it mean for him? Thor had always been a man of passion, guided by his gut and heart to whatever ends. When he committed to something, he did it wholly, with everything that he was, and he was not a man known for changing his mind easily or going back on his word.

Thor had thought that Jane was it for him; he had known it, believed it, treasured it, with everything that he was. He had been willing to give up his throne – to abandon his very people – if it came to that, to honor both his promise to return to Jane and the will of his own heart. Yet here he was, trying to burn out his jealousy under the spray, as everything in him revolted at the idea of Fjölnir laying favor on Steven. The very idea of it, the very thought of anyone else ever knowing what Steven looked sleepy-eyed and lazy in the mornings, or that he talked ever so quietly – just the barest of breathes – in his sleep, made his throat tight with a growl he barely held back. Never mind the fact that the only reason that Thor knew these things was due to circumstance. Indeed, had the Aether never taken Steven they would still be only colleagues, brothers-in-arms under the Avengers banner.

How quickly everything had seemed to change!

And perhaps it was that which was so hard for Thor to grasp, that his own feelings had altered with such speed, that his love for Jane would wane and –

The thought stopped the Alpha in place, eyes wide even with the sting of the water, as he repeated the thought to himself. No, no. It couldn’t have…could it? But he could not deny that his last encounter with Jane had been different. While honestly happy to see her, she had not stirred him the way that simple, drunken kiss had. He let out a groan, hands reaching down to finally pull his clothing off, leaving it in a pile that would undoubtedly prove an unpleasant surprise for the servants.

He reached for the scented soap – some sort of pine – and began to wash himself with a methodicalness that bordered on obsessive, so desperate was he to distract his fervent thoughts. He wished desperately that he could speak with his brother, or his father, and he felt their anger with him and loss of council more strongly than ever. A good Alpha, Steven had called him. Thor had never felt anything less than he did in this moment.

* * *

Steven seemingly had taken up his suggestion for a bath, because the Omega was freshly washed, his blond locks limp and longer than Thor had ever seen them. From where he stood in the doorway, a bottle of blackberry mead in one hand, the Alpha took a long moment to simply watch his friend. Steven was leaning across the table they’d be sharing, lifting up covers to glance at the meals, and Thor felt his breath hitch at the simple curiosity on his pretty features. The Omega looked stunning in an ink blue knit sweater that both hugged and somehow hung from his muscled frame, and Thor's eyes travel heavily across well-defined shoulders, a lean back and flared hips.

It seemed that now that he had admitted it to himself, Thor could not un-see his attraction, and the Aesir had to force his eyes away from Steven’s form as he cleared his throat and entered the room proper. Steven started, eyes wide and startled before his expression smoothed over into one of calculated nonchalance, and Thor was embittered with the thought that his earlier actions had made such a mask necessary. He set the mead down, along with two goblets he’d brought, next to a free standing jug of the apple mead that Steven was still required to imbibe, and gestured for his friend to join them.

Apologies were not something that came natural to him, not when it counted, but Thor was determined to ease whatever tension he’d birthed between the two. “I apologize for my earlier actions if they came off as odd. I had just finished having a rather intense conversation with my mother.”

 _…about the fact that I may love you,_ his mind added undesirably, and Thor had to force his attention away from the Omega as he approached, less he watch the poor man like a hawk and unsettle him further.

“It’s alright.” Steven said as he brought the blackberry mead to his nose and Thor felt booth relieved and completely undeserving of the fact that the other blond seemed to mean it. Steven was always so forgiving, ready to give a second choice. It made Thor and his conflicted feelings feel even worse. Still, there was a terseness about them that hadn’t been there before, and it hung about them like a dark cloud all through dinner. When they were picking at their deserts (honey cakes with delicate frosting designs painstakingly painted on each one) Thor could stand it no longer.

“Did I ever tell you about my first solo campaign?”

Steve paused, glancing up at him with interest. “No, I don’t think you did.”

Thor grinned and launched into the entertaining – and rather embarrassing – tale about the first time his father had given him a command. He’d only been sixteen, young and even brasher then he was now, and the campaign had become something of a legend amongst his men. Only not for Thor’s braveness. By the end of it, Steve was teary-eyed as he laughed, a hand wrapped around his midsection.

“You did not!”

“Oh, I did.” Thor said, his own amusement buffered by Steven’s simple joy at his expense, “I most certainly did. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my father turn so red. And my mother! She couldn’t even look at me. But to be fair, how was I supposed to know she was a daughter of King Woulfheim? Nor that he was such a light sleeper!”

Steven practically cackled, dragging the blackberry mead across the table and grabbing his cup. “Come on, let’s sit by the fire. I’ve got a story or two you may like.”

They sprawled out on the plush carpet, the arm chairs that mirrored the fireplace completely ignored, as Steven told him of how he’d lost his virginity to a rowdy Italian Omega, and how he’d been so delighted that he’d told his entire squad. They’d of course been just as eager to partake after Steven was done singing her praises, and lo and behold the entire squad had come down with a rather nasty strain of ‘the Clap’ (of which Thor was to understand was some sort of Soldier’s Disease) and that he’d been the only one spared because of the serum.

“And – And,” Steven said between harsh breathes, laughing, “Bucky had to piss sitting down for a week, and Dugan didn’t want to admit what was wrong, so he had to actually go to the camp doctor instead of the Italian guy we were all using because he waited so long, and they – they gave us _pamphlets,_ Thor. So many pamphlets, p-pamphlets from the _war command_ on safe sex and – and there I was, just – right as rain! I thought they were going to kill me in my sleep.”

Thor’s loud laugh matched his, and the Alpha sank back onto his palms, happy and relieved as the night grew later lost amongst such tales, that the strange tension between them was long gone. As the shadows the moon cast around the mountain peaks grew longer, reaching further into the room like inky tendrils, their talks had shifted into something that matched them. Thor spoke of friends lost, of bad decisions and whole campaigns filled with the mistakes that came with having an inexperienced Prince at their head, and Steven – Steven told him of D-Day, and Narva, and of the train, and Bucky.

And when things finally fell silently between them, it was a quiet of deep understanding and fidelity, the understanding that came – that could only come – from soldiers and their lot. Thor played with his goblet, rolling it on the edges of its base as he stared into the fire, and was accurately aware in that moment that this was a side of him that Jane would never truly understand. He glanced over at Steven, fully intent on telling him how grateful he was to have a friend he could share such things with, only to find the Omega asleep.

Thor’s lips quirked in a smile; it seemed Steven wasn’t lying, he truly couldn’t handle his drink. He was flat on his back, feet stretched towards the warmth on the fire, one hand resting on his stomach while the other was curled around the bottle of mead. Thor quietly leaned over, freeing the bottle from his grasp (then again, the Alpha thought as he viewed the nearly empty thing, perhaps it is not so much a lack of tolerance. Blackberry mead was potent, after all) and reached behind him to place it on a nearby table.

The Alpha made a crooking motion with his fingers and the fire grew even heartier, and Thor debated about the merits of moving his friend to his bed or allowing him to sleep as is. He reached out, touch light as he brushed a wayward bang off the sleeping man’s forehead. Steven let out a sigh at it and Thor froze, watching to see if he’d woken the drunken Omega. But Steven slept on, his chest rising and falling in a deep, even rhythm. Thor let his fingers trail down, over the apple of a cheek, then bolder still until they trailed down a stubbled chin to the soft skin of Steven’s throat.

He should leave, Thor thought sluggishly. There was a fur blanket nearby, that in tandem with the fire should keep his friend warm. And yet the Alpha didn’t move, his eyes locked on Steven’s face as his fingers stroked the smooth skin. Thor swallowed, wondering if he’d perhaps eaten less and taken more drink than he should have, but could not bring himself to pull away. Finally the Alpha’s fingers fell from their perch, but they only moved to find support on the floor, and Thor felt as if he was viewing his body from outside of itself as he leaned down.

Steven’s lips were as soft as he remembered, and Thor felt himself tremble at the feel of both their warmth and the way the simple contact made his heart swell. Steven let out a quiet sound, his lips parting and – and Thor forced himself away, letting out a harsh exhale. He reached for the fur, intent on draping it over the still form and leaving before he dishonored then both, when the sudden sound of an alarm had him springing to his feet. Thor’s head barely had time to jerk to the window before he was throwing himself over a startled Steven, and the entire room shook with an explosion.

Thor coughed against the smoke, pulling Steven to his feet – only to pull him back down – or try to – when another bright beam of red cut across their room. The laser beam would have cut them in half if Steven was not suddenly blocking it, his face fury incarnate from where he cursed and swore behind the impact of his shield. “Who is it?” The Omega shouted as he forced the beam back at their attackers. “Who’s attacking?”

“Svartálfar,” Thor snarled as he caught sight of the ship attacking them, then repeated their name in English as Mjölnir screeched through walls to find his hand. “Dark Elves. They have come for the Aether.”

 _They have come for_ you.

But Thor would not allow it, he would not even allow the thought to fully materialize, and thunder boomed across Fjallgaurd.

* * *

Steve cursed as he launched his shield out, catching four Elves (Dark Elves, this was Steve’s life now) in the heads and sending them tumbling backwards. Fighting was happening everywhere, in the very halls of the keep, and Steven suddenly understood all at once why his people had once called the Aesir and Vanir gods. The Vanir were vicious, fighting tooth and nail for every inch the Dark Elves took, displaying a strength and agility that was truly inhuman. Magic flew about in brightly color streams and lightening cut through the sky as Thor fried any who dared to approach too closely. Through the remains of a large viewing window, Steve could see King Freyr fighting, water and ice flying from his fingertips like the vengeful god he was, and by his side the smaller form of Queen Gerðr wielding a giant blacksmith hammer and felling any who dared to approach her husband as he cast.

Thor was a thing to behold. He commanded the guard of Fjallgaurd with the regal air that left no doubt of his lineage and his war cries echoed eerily with thunder. The Alpha and a handful of the keep guard had formed a tight circle around him much to Steve’s distaste, but he understood that it was the best tactical option no matter how much of a coward it made him feel. It had been explained to him more than once what would happen if the Aether in him fell back into the hold of the Dark Elves. He could feel it even now, pounding in his veins like a drum, a siren call that seemed to call the vast majority of the invaders to him no matter where Thor tried to hide them.

So he did what he could with his shield from his protected spot and kept his head down, hoping beyond hope that they’d make it through the night without too many causalities. He felt those hopes abruptly dashed when god awful shrieks filled the hallway, the Dark Elves nearest them retreating back. In their place came a horde more, but they were different. They glowed an eerie red and Steve let out a cry, falling to his knees as the Aether in him twisted in awareness, and he fought down the urge to vomit when he felt something in the creatures call back.

The Aether _recognized_ them.

Thor let out a shout, retreating behind the lines to kneel by his side, his hands covered with black blood as one clasped his shoulder worriedly, the other curled white-knuckle tight around Mjölnir. He was asking Steve something, but damn it all if he could hear him over the pounding in his ears. He did hear the bellow though. It was low and deep, echoing in his chest cavity as if he himself had let it out, and Steve’s head shot up as the grip on his shoulder tightened to the point of pain as Thor stared, slack jaw, at the quartet of behemoths that had entered the hallway. The glowing Elves cawed out and screeched in a mighty cacophony of sounds that made him shudder, the giants' roars making the mounted paintings and weapons shake. The line wavered and next to him Thor let out a loud growl, then lept to his feet.

“Do not fear!” The Alpha-Prince shouted, “we drove them to darkness once, we will do it again. Up!” Thor roared, Mjölnir pulsing and sparking in his hand, _“Up!_ Up, unto the overturned keel!” He’d barely finished the words when suddenly they were being taken up by the guards around them, their spears banging against the floor, swords smashing against shields, and flares of magic erupted from the contact. And yet still Thor’s voice was the loudest sound as he chanted; “Clamber with a heart of steel/Cold is the ocean spray/And your death is on its way/With maidens you had your way/ _Each must die someday!”_

And then they were surging forward, Thor at the lead in a flash of red and gold, and Steve lept to his own feet, heart beating loudly with the need to strike, to fight and rend, but Kvígr was suddenly before him, bleeding heavily from a head wound, but his green eyes were clear and stern. Næstr stood only a pace in front of them, long spear at the ready from where it peaked around the shield wall.

“No, milord.” The Omega said, voice devoid of its normal cheer, “you will have your chance at valor. But we need you here.”

Steve grit his teeth but nodded, eyes locked on the fray. On Thor, who was steadily cutting a path through the horde to where one of the huge Dark Elves was slowly making his way to meet him. Steve let out a shout, lurching forward only to be caught around the waist by a grim faced Kvígr as Thor was abruptly backhanded by the brute, sending flying into – and through – the stone walls. Another knocked a dozen guards down; they did not get back up. Steve cursed, hand tightening around his shield’s handle so much it creaked. “I will not sit by while others die for me!”

His eyes snapped to the other Omega, so bright with fury that Kvígr’s grip actually loosened. But then the brunet’s expression hardened even further. “And the day is lost if they have you. Forgive me, milord, but you must remain here.”

Steve’s stunned reply (he had not been aware – but of course his Omegas-in-waiting would know of the Aether) was lost when a flash of metal – Mjölnir, Steve realized all at once – sent the giant careening back into another and both disappeared dropped to the deeps below. Thor jumped back inside with a bellow, catching his weapon as it ricocheted back, and held it high above his head. All at once stone from the ceiling exploded, bolts of lightning a dozen strong catching several Dark Elves and burning them from the inside.

The relief he felt at the sight of the Alpha, seemingly safe and unharmed, was enough to steal his breath. The feeling did not last long, as an explosion behind him sent guards flying forward and Steve swung around, shoving Kvígr behind him as he blocked the worst of it. When he brought his shield down, Steve felt his eyes widen in dread at the sight of another giant standing before him. And by his side, standing tall and seemingly bored, his dark cloak fluttering around him like wings, was a Dark Elf that could only be someone important.

The Commander.

He extended a clawed finger, pointing at Steve, and Steve bared his teeth, shield at the ready, and behind him he could just hear Thor shouting desperately. “You think you can take me, big fella? Well come on then, better men have tried.” Kvígr and Næstr were at his sides, twin faces warped in twin snarls, but when they tried to move forward Steve barked out a halt. “Don’t,” he said sharply, stilling both Omegas mid-step, “don’t get in front of me.”

They looked reluctant but obediently stilled, and there was a sudden weight in his hand. Næstr’s sword. He gave the Omega a nod, stepping forward as he narrowed his eyes at the Commander.

“So what, we just gonna stare at each other all day?”

The giant took a step forward, then another, and suddenly his huge weight was a barreling train. Steve cursed, leaping forward to meet him, digging his feet in as he threw all his weight behind his shield. The impact sent a shockwave behind him, and the Omega glanced over his shoulder quickly to find the men and women that had been guarding him stumbling to stay on their feet. And further behind them, Thor. Thor, who was watching him fight with such open, honest fear, but could not reach him from the two giant Dark Elves he fought.

Steve’s attention snapped back to his own battle, grunting as he pushed forward with everything he had, sending the behemoth backwards. Steve was on him before he had a chance to recover and lashed out with the sword. He’d never really trained with the weapon, but it seemed pretty straight forward, and he dug the blade as deep into the monster’s torso as he could manage.

The Dark Elf screamed, grabbing him by his collar and flinging him away with frightening ease. Steve turned the uncoordinated fall as he rolled, forcing his body to move until his feet were digging into stone as he skidded to a stop. He had a split second to register the awed faces of his guards before he used the momentum to launch himself forward, shield flying before him to slam into the giant’s head. It snapped back with a nasty sound, the force enough to break a man’s neck, and Steve followed it up with a punch that sent the tall form stumbling back again, and then another, and another, before he pushed his blade deep into the Dark Elf’s sternum.

It fell back with a sickening gurgle, entire body twitching as a hand reached up as if to tug the sword free, then went still. Steve smirked, flashing a smile at the Commander before catching his shield. “I take it you've never heard the phrase ‘size isn’t everything?’”

The Commander just huffed, extending his finger once more before it turned, ever so gently, into a ‘come’ gesture. Steve let out a shout of horror as he felt something in his stomach respond, knocking himself off his feet as his body began to _flow_ forward all on its own. He fought it with everything he had, but it was as if his muscles were frozen, and the distance between them closed quickly. His heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest as his body floated near enough for the Dark Elf Commander to smirk, claws reaching out to grab, and _oh no, oh god he was going to be caught and_ –

The sound that left him Steve had only heard once before – when Bucky had fallen – and it ripped his throat raw.

_“Thor!”_

And suddenly Mjölnir was racing past him, impacting against the Commander’s chest with a mighty ‘thud,’ and the spell was broken. He was caught before he ever hit the ground. Thor’s grip was so tight it hurt, the Alpha’s face wild with panic and rage, and he was backing away with Steve almost instantly, his retreat covered by the frightened but stalwart Kvígr and Næstr. Steve felt a flare of pride for his Omega guards – no one else had braved to break the shield wall, but it was clear that the twins had tried to come to his aid.

All at once there was an explosion of water, rushing past their feet, high enough to lick at Steve even in Thor’s arms, and inexplicably it froze around every Dark Elf present, freezing them in place and crawling rapidly up to encase them into solid blocks of ice. The Commander – pushing himself from the pile of rubble he’d landed in – snarled, expression dark with fury, before leaping out a damaged wall and onto a waiting craft that sped off quickly. Steve let out a breath of disbelief. They’d won, somehow, and he turned to Thor with relief - but his smile disappeared at once at the distress he found on the Alpha’s face. Thor’s entire body was shaking but before Steve could ask if he was hurt he was suddenly being set on his feet, a pair of battered and bruised hands cupping his face.

“Are you harmed?” Steve stared at his friend, heart beating rapidly for entirely different reason then before as he took in the almost fevered gleam of terror in the older blond’s eyes. _“Steven,_ are you hurt?” Thor demanded again, voice urgent. “Let me see, let me – _gods.”_

_[After the Battle](http://fearlessonmybreath.deviantart.com/art/Thundershiled-full-color-611225314) by [FearlessOnMyBreath](http://fearlessonmybreath.deviantart.com/)_

Steve steadfastly ignored the smirks on Kvígr and Næstr’s faces as Thor held him back, eyes and hands patting down his form in search of wounds, but he couldn’t deny the warm, pleased feeling that came at the sight of Thor’s almost desperate concern. He caught the Alpha’s hands, stilling their frantic pawing. “I’m fine, Thor. Are you?” But Thor ignored the question, choosing to stare mutely at him instead. “...Thor?”

Suddenly he was pulled forward into a hug, Thor’s arms tight, and when he spoke it was against the skin of Steve’s forehead and his voice was ragged. “When I saw him call the Aether to him – I feared I would not reach you in time.”

Steve’s shoulders dropped, his own arms reaching out to wrap around his friend, hands fisting in the back of Thor’s blood drenched tunic. He closed eyes, letting Thor take his weight. _Called the Aether,_ he mused bitterly, _was that what that was?_ “It…It was like I was frozen. I couldn’t move, or – or do _anything._ He almost took me,” Steve shivered when Thor’s lips pressed against his forehead, “and I wouldn’t have been able to stop him. He almost won, just because…and all those people, dead, because of me.”

A hand slid up to curl around his neck, the action undeniably protective. “No, none of this is your doing, my friend. You did not ask for this.”

“No,” Steve agreed quietly, “but it still happened. I’m still a danger.” Then, even quieter, practically muffled by the skin of Thor’s neck. “Your father was right. I’ll bring death to anywhere I go.”

Impossibly, the arms around him tightened further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think I forgot about the Aether did you? What did you think of the fight scene? Decent, I hope. 
> 
> I'm trying to give a good insight into Thor's mind. He's not selfish, just very confused. He is the type of person that loves easily and completely, but when it comes to romantic love he is very much an old school romantic. He honestly believed that he had found the one with Jane (the maiden who had cared for him in his time of self-doubt and need, who had helped him through understanding the value of mortals, and through his humbling, and if this was an old love story - Jane would be the one, wouldn't she? At least plot wise.) And then there is Steve. And he's just...kind of lost. And fairly young, despite his numerical age.


	12. A Quiet Place, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If someone had told him two years ago that he’d be in this position, that Tony would want something so domestic with every inch of his soul, he would have laughed himself silly. But here he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed and written on my phone due to computer issues.

It was cold tonight, by far the coldest it had been this year. From where he was scaling the side of the Stark (soon to be Avengers) Tower, Peter shivered and tried to hide his face further into his scarf. The thing smelled pretty nasty by now, but it was thick and warm, and that alone made the musty scent tolerable. Peter let out a sigh of relief when he reached the top, bypassing the balcony completely (wondering, as he always did when he passed the apartment, what Mr. Stark would be doing now) and heading towards the roof proper. He reached a handless hatch, pulling his right glove off with his teeth before he pressed his now bare fingers down.

The ice-cold metal made him shiver but Peter ignored it, letting out a growl of protest as his muscles heaved to pull the hatch open just by the sticky point of contact of his fingertips. Once it was open he dropped happily inside, letting the heavy hatch fall close behind him. Instantly he buffeted by a wave of warmth and Peter sighed happily at it.

It was some sort of computer server room that was just wide and tall enough for Peter to stand in the middle of the rows of server towers, and the heat and light generated from running machines made for a cozy little enclosure. Peter pulled his hood down, tossing his scarf free before pulling the pile of blankets he’d stolen/borrowed/scavenged from their hiding place behind a tower and made up his thin nest.

His gloves followed his scarf before Peter stretched out on the nest, pulling his water logged sneakers off. He spread his soaked socks out on the floor to dry, before curling up on his nest. He dug his bare feet into the blankets, trying to get some warmth into them, and wrapped his arms tightly the small stuffed bear – the only toy from home he’d managed to grab when he fled. It was a Build-a-Bear one he’d made with his Uncle Ben just before the Beta’d had his heart attack. It was small and fluffy, with brown fur and a _How to Train Your Dragon_ hoodie that made him look like Toothless, and it had Peter’s name _(Peter Benjamin P.)_ and birthday _(12/12/07)_ embroidered on its bottom paw. Uncle Ben had named it Peter Jr. – or PJ for short – and PJ had always been his favorite toy.

He’d gotten lucky and scored a free hotdog from a kind vender, so Peter’s stomach was full for the first time in what felt like days and with luck he’d fall asleep quickly tonight. But just because he went to sleep quickly didn’t mean he’d sleep through the night; Peter had terrible nightmares. They were almost always dreams of the day that followed the visit to Harry’s dad’s labs, when he’d woken to find his blankets and sheets sticking to his feet and hands and his Aunt May had been scared – scared of _him_ – and Peter had been so confused. That day had been filled with confusion; a non-stop headache from city noises that had been amplified to the likes that Peter had never heard before, nausea from a painful awareness of the city’s stench, and long minutes of being rooted to once spot via a hand or foot that was suddenly cemented in place. Or sometimes he dreamed of when the guys from Oscorp came to ‘collect’ him, and of what followed, of Aunt May dying and Peter’s desperate flight out of Queens.

The little boy shuddered, curling tighter in on himself. _It’s okay,_ he reminded himself, _you got away._ He’d been in hiding for nearly a year, if they were going to find him they probably would have by now, so he comforted himself on the fact that he was probably safe. Peter didn’t know what they wanted with him, but they’d come to his house in hazmats suits and the Omega pup had read enough science fiction to figure out what that meant, especially coupled with the spider bite and his weird new abilities.

And they’d killed Aunt May; that alone had been reason enough to run.

Peter had been doing the best he could on his own, but he missed his Aunt. And he missed his friends, even Harry, who Peter had decided magnanimously not to blame for his father’s actions. Mr. Osborn had always been a strange, serious man, and Harry had been his best friend for so long Peter couldn’t reconcile the idea that he could know what his dad had done. And Peter missed his school and his pet tree frogs. In fact, he missed everything from his own life. Peter let out a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as he started to recite the periodic table to try and fall asleep. It must have worked, because one minute he was in the noble gases and the next his senses were jerking him awake. Peter’s eyes snapped open, scrambling away from the threat so fast that his back slammed into the wall with enough force to make him see stars, PJ clutched tightly to his chest.

“Easy there, Spidey.” Tony Stark was crouched in front of him, one hand extended towards the nest, and Peter felt some of the tension lessen at the friendly expression and familiar scent. Tony smiled, “looks like we don’t have nesting birds after all.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Peter said quietly, staring down at his bare feet as his toes curled in embarrassment. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be in here, but it was just so cold!

“Nothing to be sorry about, unless you’re apologizing for running off and leaving me with an extra sandwich to eat.” Tony teased with a wink and a chuckle. His smile faded a bit. “Why did you run, kiddo? I was worried.”

Peter shrugged, pulling PJ closer. “I dunno,” then quieter, “I didn’t want you to call the police.”

Because police meant social services, and if social workers got involved the people from Oscorp would find him, and then Peter didn’t know what he’d do.

“Ah.” Tony said after a moment. “Well, why don’t we have that sandwich now? I’ve got a friend I’d like you to meet, and I promise I won’t call anyone. My place is warmer then up here and I’ve got a couple hundred TV channels too.”

Peter hesitated, fingers brushing over PJ’s soft fur. “You’re not…mad? That I was up here? Or that I left?”

The Alpha’s grin strengthened. “Nope,” he held out his hand, “come on. I’ve got ice cream too.”

Peter eyed the hand wearily for a moment, before taking a deep breath and steadying his nerves, licking his lips at the idea of ice cream. He hadn’t had ice cream since before Aunt May had died. He tucked PJ under his arm and slowly took the offered hand. “What type of ice cream?”

* * *

The morning air was brisk, so cold that it stole a quiet gasp from Steve’s lips as he stepped into it. He was bundled up warmly in layers though, with a thick woolen cloak that was fur-lined and matching gloves, and Steve felt himself adjusting to the lower temperature quickly. There was the press of silky warmth against his leg and the Omega glanced down, lips twisting into a small smile at the strikingly intelligent amber eyes that peered up at them. The dog was huge, similar in appearance to some sort of husky or some other wintery dog breed. Her name was Vala and for reasons unknown to Steve, she had formed a constant shadow at his side. Her mate, Surtr, had seemingly done the same to Thor, so perhaps that was normal for their breed? The pair had been gifted to Thor and Steve upon their flight from the city, given to them by an obviously concerned Fjölnir.

He still couldn’t believe that this was happening. Less than two days ago Steve had been fighting for his life, fighting for the lives of those around him as he fought to keep the Aether from falling into the wrong hands, and now…now he was in the wilderness of Alfheim, in hiding. From Thor’s father. The High King.

They had barely had a moment to catch their breath (or in Steve’s case to shove on a pair of socks and boots) when Thor’s mother, Frigga, had come racing into Steve’s destroyed rooms, wide eyed with panic.

_“Mother?” Thor’s voice was startled, the Alpha reaching out to take the Omega-Queen into his arms at the sight of her distress. “What is it? Are you harmed?”_

_“No, my son. Our unexpected guests may have forgotten that I am a Shield-maiden, but my blade reminded them quickly enough. No, the danger we face is far greater than any Svartálfar. Your father comes.”_

_Thor paled dramatically at that and Steve’s grip on his shield tightened in response. Frigga reached up, her hands gently cupping her son’s face, her expression grim. “He has not taken this attack on his people lightly; he means to put Steven into an eternal slumber.”_

_Steve felt himself take a step back in shock, but was not aware of the strangled sound of fear he’d let out until both Aesir royals turned to look at him in concern. Thor’s face hardened. “I will not allow it; he knows I will not allow it.”_

_“I know, my son.” Frigga said with a sigh, “but he may still yet be reasoned with and your uncle and I will not rest until we’ve turned his mind from this madness. But you and Steven must not be in the city when he arrives. His wrath at the moment is too great.”_

And that was how Steve found himself bundled up and fleeing into the cold night, racing as hard as the goat-like creatures (they were tall, fearsome beasts, with six legs, massive horns, thick puffy wool, and stood so tall that Steve barely meet their shoulders) could safely run. The farm they had retreated to was a rarely used royal retreat, used when the King and his family members wished to escape the hustle of the city and court and return to nature, and this particular one had fallen out of favor at some point during Njörðr’s father’s rule.

The farm was large but not overly so, its boundaries marked on three sides by the thick, almost prehistoric looking coniferous forests that seem to dominate Alfheim. There was a half a mile or so of cleared land between the forest and where the thick hedge and stone fences that bordered the farm’s pastures began. Though most of the farm was in hibernation due to the winter, Steve had been told that in its short spring and even shorter summer months it came alive with the color of its various crops. As it stood, Steve could still see several hearty crops that seemed to grow healthy despite the shocking cold.

Likewise there was a row of tall beehives that were oddly active, there were large bees (so large that Steve could see them from the steps of the cabin – over three miles away) flying busily about despite the wind and snow. There were two large barns and several smaller open enclosures that dotted the pastures, and fat boars and their sows, impressively sized sheep, goats, and cattle, wandered lazily about or were clustered together for warmth.

At the very opposite end of where Steve stood was a small farmhouse where the farm’s caretaker, an elderly – yet quite fierce – Beta named Ormi resided with his Alpha daughter, Sefa, and her mate Róta, and their tiny pup, Gyða. The cabin they were staying in was only slightly larger, with a similar sod roof as the farmhouse though the brown grass was mostly hidden by the heavy snow. It held only one tiny bedroom and was made from aged logs of wood that were once painted a bright, cheerful red but now had faded into a soft, off-color reddish-brown. There was a large, hand carved door situated in its side, flanked by a pair of frost covered windows, and a set of gigantic antlers rested just above the door frame. Just beyond the cabin proper there was a steep cliff and beyond that was a huge ocean inlet, stunning in its deep sapphire color – almost black in some places – that was smattered with frozen islands of ice.

Steve had mix feelings about their hiding and he mused on it all as he stepped out into the snow, wobbling only slightly as he readjusted his weight as he sank, Vala following diligently behind him. He kept his eyes downcast as he trudged forward and tried to ignore the leaden weight in his stomach. How many people were dead? A hundred? Two hundred? More? Steve had seen death, had lived with it on a daily basis in the war. He’d even seen civilian death on a rampant scale before. But never had he been the sole reason for it. On one hand, there was never any part of him that ever wanted to be put back to sleep. But on the other…all those people were dead, because of Steve. Perhaps it was for the best? If the Aether could not be extracted from him…how long could he afford to be selfish if it meant putting people in danger? Especially those that he cared about?

“Good morning, Milord.” A cheerful voice called out and Steve glanced up in surprise, lips curving in a small smile at the sight of Róta standing before him, the cheerful Omega’s arms full with her child in one and a row of buckets hanging from their rope handles looped around her other. “It’s quite early for you to be walking.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Steve admitted, stepping forward to relieve the woman of some of her burden.

“Ah, I see." Róta said with a soft hum. While the caretakers didn’t seem to know why he and Thor had arrived on the grounds unannounced at first, it was clear within a few hours they had heard about the attack on the capital; their bewilderment shifting to a grim understanding. “Well, my Sefa won’t be up for a few more hours, lazy thing, and father Ormi has already headed into the forest to hunt and gods know when he’ll gift us with his presence once more. Would you care to keep me and the little one company for a bit? Milking takes quite a bit even with our small herd, and I rarely get to speak sense with another Omega.”

“I’d like that. I could help, if you like.” Steve offered as he fell into step behind Róta, his smile growing slightly as Gyða from where she stared, wide-eyed, over her mother’s shoulder at him.

The offer was dismissed immediately.

“We get paid quite a far bit, you know,” Róta whispered conspiratorially, “to live off a perfectly lovely piece of land that hardly anyone ever visits. It’d be a bit dishonest of me to make you do some work now that you finally have.”

“Please, though.” Steve said quietly, “I’d…enjoy the work. I’ve been feeling a bit useless lately.”

The other Omega watched him for a moment, something shrewd and quite knowing in her eyes, and Steve was struck once again with the strangeness that were these people; while Róta may look similar in age to him she was most likely hundreds of years older.

“Aye,” she said with a nod, setting Gyða down by her feet, “hard work is a cure for much. Come then, I’ll teach you how to milk the does. Be careful now, Alfheim goats as temperamental things, especially if their kids are around.”

The work was hard, but it was soothing in a way that Steve wasn’t expecting, and it worked wonders for pushing his troubled thoughts aside. Sadly, he wasn’t very _good_ at it, and a laughing Róta had shooed him away with her apron after the third doe had tried to drive Steve out of the pasture. In the end he was regulated to watching from the other side of the fence, Gyða a heavy but sweet warmth in his arms, the little girl much friendlier now that she had gotten used to the foreign Omega.

Róta was seemingly by default a cheerful woman, and she talked much about everything and nothing. She was more than willing to answer any of his questions about Alfheim culture, and spoke much about living on the farm and how she’d come to be there. It was only once Gyða had drifted off to sleep in his arms that Steve managed to become a bit more…braver…in his questions.

“What was it like being courted by an Alpha?”

Róta head dipped around the goat she was milking, brows furrowed. “Do you mean by a female Alpha? Or just in general?” Something on Steve’s face must have given his thoughts away, because the female Omega’s lips twitched into a wide grin. “Do not tell me you are untouched?”

“No!” Steve sputtered, then quickly lowered his volume as Gyða grunted unhappily. “No, I’m not…untouched. I’ve been with other Omegas for heats before, and even a Beta or two, but I’ve never…not with an Alpha.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, my Lord, but I find that hard to believe.” Róta made a sweeping gesture towards her with her rag – then promptly had to whack the doe she was sitting near in the mouth with it when she tried to eat it. “I mean – look’a you! You’re stunning.”

Steve flushed, shifting self-consciously and rubbing at his neck. “There was a girl once, a real peach…” His words faded off, feeling an all too familiar pinch of pain at the thought of Peggy, “but it didn’t work out. I wasn’t in the position to really think about mating for a long time but now…”

“Now things are different.”

Steve shrugged. “Kind of? I’m not…sure? Of anything. Really.”

“Well,” Róta drew the word out, obviously in thought, “being courted by an Alpha can be a heady thing. It can feel like two magnets being drawn together – their smell alone!” The other Omega sighed dreamily, “but when you meet one you’re truly compatible with…well, when I first scented Sefa, it was like the heavens had made her for me. I’d never smelt anything like it. It didn’t matter if I was in a room full of people, I could catch her scent and it would just _hold_ me. Can you imagine?”

Steve shifted uncomfortably. The problem was that he didn't need to imagine it; he’d experienced something very similar…with Thor. Quite possibly the one Alpha that Steve could never have, _should_ never try for, because he was already committed to someone else.

Róta didn’t seem to notice his embarrassment, continuing on without missing a beat. “I didn’t notice it right away, but I was far more drawn to Sefa than I was anyone else who came into my father’s inn. I wanted her to notice me, to pay me favors, and – if you believe my sisters – I was acting like a cat in heat long before I realized what was going one. Of course, Alphas are just as bad. Sefa always found an excuse to touch me, and she always grew so jealous whenever another sought my attention. She used to take my hand so much, especially when she was ordering a drink, and she would stare so steadily at my lips – and sometimes even my breasts! It’s remarkable it took us as long as it did to mate.”

There was another dreamy sigh.

“And do not let anyone tell you that female Alphas are lacking in any manner because of their smaller lengths – trust me they make up for it far better ways. Such as girth." 

Steve choked on a laugh, muffling the sound behind his mitten as Róta’s hand shot out from underneath the goat’s belly, her fingers curved in a wide, fat ‘o’.

“But, I suppose I should tell you about the courting itself. It was a bit of trial you know, if for no other reason than for father Ormi. He meant so well, but he’s terribly old fashioned. Why, the very first courting gift he convinced Sefa to give me was a strip of fish. _Fish!_ And not just any fish, but golden horse-saithe, which are quite tasteless and fatty, and my least favorite type of any meat. Not to mention simply unromantic, and I told her so, which she took _quite_ badly and-”

* * *

The movie was almost done _(Cars,_ a silly animated movie available on pay-per-view about the adventures of a talking race car) and Tony’s apartment was mostly silently save for the sound of Larry the Cable guy blathering on the screen. Tony was kind of following along, but mostly his attention was on the two sleeping figures by his side. Bruce was completely conked out, his body lax and heavy with sleep, feet dug deep under Tony’s thigh, while Spidey – _Peter,_ Tony’s mind corrected, _Peter Benjamin P. who was_ six _fucking years old_ – was just as deeply asleep. The small boy was tucked between the couch back and Bruce’s legs, head pillowed on Bruce’s hip while his legs were curled between the two adult’s bodies.

Tony’s hand was over Bruce’s ankle, his wrist resting over Peter’s tiny feet, keeping them warm despite the well-heated air of Tony’s pent house, and sipped at his forth beer, and quietly thought. Finding Peter again had been a welcome surprise. After the shower debacle, Bruce had taken to keeping away from Tony, as if distance alone would make the thick attraction between them abate, but after Spidey – after Tony’s not so graceful freak-out over the fact that he hadn’t been able to track the little boy down – Bruce had fallen back into the routine they’d shared before Steve had disappeared.

They spent most evenings together, either watching movies or talking about some experiment or another, with Bruce cooking or Tony ordering out for food. The only thing missing was Steve. Even after a month, Steve’s absence was like an open sore. As much as Tony enjoyed spending time alone with Bruce, there was no way that he could just forget that there was supposed to be another Omega joining them, another Omega who needed just as badly to be drawn from his shell and reminded – forcibly if needed – that he belonged to a pack, no matter how unconventional it was.

Clint had been by earlier but he’d had left before dinner, undoubtedly going to spend time with whoever the Omega that Tony had been scenting on him. The older Alpha was happy for his friend; the archer had apparently been living the life of a priest since his divorce and bond dissolution, and Tony wanted Clint to find happiness again. That he was completely and utterly jealous that Legolas was getting some while Tony was still spinning his wheels, desperate to find any type of traction in his relationship with Bruce, was neither here nor there.

He ran his palm up Bruce’s leg, gently pushing his pants’ leg up to stroke the soft skin there. Bruce let out a sigh, curling in tighter against the pillow he was wrapped around, his glasses skewed, and Tony felt his heart clench with a hot bolt of affection. He wanted Bruce so _badly_ and that feeling had only expanded after tonight. Finding Peter again a week of fraught searching had been a godsend.

Perhaps finding Peter had somehow become mixed up with finding Steve in his mind, or maybe it was just the fact that Tony valued intelligence over anything else and the idea of such a smart, clever little boy _(six, he was_ six, _for all his mind made him seem older)_ roughing it through early winter on the streets of New York was just too much for him to take. Whatever it was, Tony had been obsessed with locating Spidey and every failure had made the already impressive amount of stress he was under double.

But Spidey was here, sleeping in one of Tony’s old college hoodies, freshly bathed and safe, face buried in the fur of his recently laundered teddy bear, and Tony felt like for the first time in a month the heavy weight on his chest had lifted somewhat. And if the sight of Bruce fussing over the pup in the bath, uncaring at how his shirt and jeans became soaked as he carefully washed the second skin of grime and dirt from Peter, or if watching as the object of his affections stood in _his_ kitchen, in a borrowed pair of _his_ pajamas, and wiped the excess chocolate ice cream from Spidey’s mouth, both Omega and pup laughing and talking cheerfully, made Tony’s mouth dry and his heart pound with a want so harsh it took his breath away…well, it was it was.

If someone had told him two years ago that he’d be in this position, that Tony would want something so domestic with every inch of his soul, he would have laughed himself silly. But here he was. Tony’s hand tightened on Bruce’s ankle, swallowing hard around a mouthful of beer.

He wanted this.

And Tony always got what he wanted.

* * *

It was nearly late morning when Thor had awoken to find Steven gone. He woke on a large chair from where he’d apparently fallen asleep after fleeing their shared bedroom that morning. Thor had not thought that sharing a bed would affect him so, as they had done so for several nights back in Asgard, but when he’d woken in the middle of the night, driven to an alerted alarm from troubling dreams of red mist, it had been to a sweet smell and a welcome weight in his arms.

Thor had blinked blearily, taking in the pale neck inches from his face, before groaning and pulling the sleeping body even closer, his nose pressing against the smooth skin. He had taken a deep inhale of the lovely scent, feeling his chest expand to its full capacity as he did so. In that moment he could think of no better way to awaken then such; laying in the quiet, with nothing but the gentle breaths of Steven and the dogs to break the stillness, the sheets warmed by their combined body heat.

Without thought Thor’s tongue had darted out, tasting the soft skin, and bit back a pained moan as Steven had let out a sleepy sound, his body pressing back into Thor’s – _a firm ass pressing into the cradle of his hips_ – and it took far more strength then Thor could have ever imagined to pull back the inviting skin and force himself from the warm bed. For a long moment he’d just stood dumbly before their shared bed, watching.

It had been an alluring sight, without a doubt.

Steven had slept deeply and fully, flaxen hair messed and wild, soft lips slackened and slightly parted. There was something so very pure about Steven, something so gentle and soft that only came out in his sleep; when he was awake he was every inch a soldier (something which Thor appreciated just as much) but like that…

He’d fled to the arm chair, using the excuse of tending the fire to keep his mind from the Omega that had been sleeping just a few feet away, or the aching hardness between his legs. Thor still felt ashamed at how he’d reacted. Steven most likely still saw him as nothing but a dear friend, someone he trusted to sleep so closely with, and Thor had to flee their bed to keep his hands to himself.

And now he had awoken to a horrible crick his neck and an empty cabin. He dressed quickly, Surtr’s black form raising from he’d been sleeping by the fire to follow him outside. Thor fought back a surge of worry when he saw no trace of his missing friend. He was sure that Steven was fine, most likely simply walking about the farm given how the Omega loved being outside, and yet he still found himself following the sunken footsteps with a fearful urgency.

His worry wasn’t entirely unfounded. When Thor thought of how close he’d come to loosing Steven…it made his stomach twist painfully. It made something inside him – something deep and primal – bristle with rage at the thought of another touching his Steven. The attack had made his previous conflictions seem so shallow now; it seemed that all it had taken for the young Alpha to truly understand where his heart lay was the threat of losing it.

He knew now, in a way that he had never been so certain before, that he was in love with Steven Rogers. And that Thor wanted him to remain by his side, to be his mate – his Omega-King – for however long the gods deemed it fit for them to remain so. And if any reservations had remained after the fight, his reaction to the thought of his father putting Steven into sleep was a visceral clarification.

Never before, never in the entirety of his life, had Thor ever imagined that there could be a moment that he could be willing to take up arms against the All-father. Against his King, against his _father._ But now…now Thor knew that the only way that anyone – Odin, Dark Elf, or well-meaning cousin – would take Steven from him was over his dead body.

His heart tightened, the ache so strong that it robbed his breath. Unless, of course, that was what Steven wanted. Thor believed that he would never forget the haunted look on Fjölnir’s face when his cousin had released Steven into his care at the city gates. It was the strained expression of an Alpha fighting against his instincts, of an Alpha that wanted to ensure the safety of an Omega he was fond of but utterly aware of how helpless he was to do so. It was the expression of an Alpha realizing he was sending the Omega he cared for off into the wilds, to spend an unknown period of time alone, with a rival love interest.

It wasn’t until that moment – until Thor saw his cousin grapple with that urge and overcome it, aware that the only way to protect Steven was to let him go – that Thor realized just how deeply Fjölnir cared for the Omega. Oddly, Thor could not remember ever being so proud of his baby cousin as he had been in that moment.

If…

If what was happening between Steven and Fjölnir was a love match, Thor would allow it. He would fight for it even. He wanted nothing more than to see the Omega he’d grown to love to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him. A fitting end perhaps, Thor thought with some ironic melancholy, for someone such as himself, who had already broken the heart of another Omega. Even if she didn’t know it yet.

In truth, their hiding here was anything but ‘hiding.’ All his father had to do was command the Watcher to give their location and Heimdall would be honor-bound to do so. The fact that Odin had yet to arrive was more of a testament to his mother’s persuasion than anything else, and Thor knew that however long they rested in the comforting and protective enclave of this place would be exactly the amount of time it took for their argument to come to an end – one way or another. The wards and spells on the land would hopefully keep them hidden from the Dark Elves, however. As it was, Thor would value whatever time he was given with Steven; he would treasure this little moment of peace.

He found his errant Omega leaning against one of the fences, talking softly with one of the caretakers as she milked a large doe. Thor felt his steps falter as Steven shifted towards the sounds of his approach swallowing harshly at the sight of the pup sleeping so contently in Steven’s arms. How easily his mind twisted the image into something even more attractive, how easily the sleeping babe – with her fair skin and blonde curls – became Steven’s own…his own…

Róta, one of the caretakers, appeared at the fence, bowing low to Thor before slipping the sleeping tot from Steven’s arms and the illusion was broken. The Alpha throat suddenly felt tight, his chest too small, and he looked away quickly, trying to push away the irrational feeling of loss. Steven was not his. Steven may never be his.

“Thor?”

“You were not there when I woke.”

“Oh…” The Omega blushed slightly, shifting awkwardly. “I went for a walk, I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s of little matter,” Thor interrupted softly, stepping forward to offer his arm, “perhaps you’d like to finish your walk down by the beach? There are stairs carved into the cliff side, though they are quite steep, they provide some stunning views.”

Steven nodded, stepping forward, his motions only slightly hesitant before he slipped his arm into the crook of Thor’s elbow. The walk was pleasant despite the cold, with the Alpha pointing out the various flora and fauna as they made their way towards the cliff. The stairs were precariously carved, more of a ladder at some points than anything else, but Thor was correct in guessing that Steven would enjoy the challenge.

By the time they reached the frozen rocky shore line, Steven’s cheeks were flushed a bright red from the exertion and he was breathing heavily, but he was grinning widely – something that had almost been completely absent since the attack. They stood side by side, Steven a step in front of him, and watched the waves crash angrily against the rocks, throwing white foam high into the air. They stood in silence for a long time, long enough for the sweat that Thor had worked up from the climb to turn tacky and cold.

“How long until your father comes for me?”

Thor stiffened, eyes ripping from the turbulent waves, the peaceful quiet around them broken. Steven’s joyful smile was gone, replaced by a doppelganger that was so much sadder, more delicate. Thor stepped closer to the Omega without thought, his hands rising up to grip at thick forearms comfortingly.

“We do not know that he will.”

Steven ducked his head, bottom lip catching slightly between his teeth. “…maybe he should.”

The Alpha inhaled quickly before he forcibly turned the smaller blond around to face him. Steven looked up at him questioningly, but did not try to break from his grasp. Under his hands he could feel the minute shivers that wracked the Omega’s frame and he ran his palms over his arms in an attempt to warm him as he spoke, his voice low but determined.

“I cannot fault you for your thoughts, Steven, nor for your guilt, but you must believe me. None of what has happened is your fault. You did not ask for the Aether to implant itself inside you, nor did you ask for the Dark Elves to attack.” Thor’s grip tightened, gaze locked with Steven’s as he willed the other to believe him. “I do not wish to see you blame yourself.”

“If it comes to it, if it comes to putting me to sleep or killing me so that the Aether won't fall into the wrong hands, you have to promise me that you’ll let them do it.”

The Alpha’s response was instinctive, sharp.

“No.” There was a heavy sigh of his name. _“No.”_ Thor repeated, glaring out over the stormy ocean, jaw clenched so tight the denial was muffled.

The soft warmth of leather fluttered across his skin as the Omega cupped his jaw, thumbs brushing ever so slightly across his cheekbones, pulling Thor’s attention back with that gentle beseechment alone.

“Thor, I can’t keep living like this. I…everything I am, everything I shaped myself to be, is to be a soldier. To be the person that protects those who can’t protect themselves. I couldn’t live with myself if I became that danger just because I was too afraid to do what needed to be done.” Steve’s eyes were steady as they stared into his own, without an ounce of fear. “I need you to promise that if the time comes and I can’t do it for some reason, that you will see it done.”

“Steven-”

The grip on his face tightened, those blue eyes sharpening with warning. “You are all I have here, Thor. I don’t have anyone else that I can trust. It’s just…it’s just us, here. You and me. You’re my Shieldbrother aren’t you? You’ve got my back no matter what, right?”

“Yes,” Thor breathed out reluctantly.

“Then you need – _I_ need to know that you’ll help me see this to the end. Whatever end that is.”

The Alpha felt his jaw twitch, resentment and denial raging hotly in his chest. He nodded stiffly regardless, because no matter how his heart screamed at the idea he knew that Steven was correct. They could ill afford the Aether – nor any Infinity Stone – to fall into the wrong hands. But the mere idea of promising such a thing, coupled so closely to the realization of his own feelings was too much, far too much.

He pulled Steven forward abruptly, arms wrapping tightly around him, one hand cradling the back of his neck, fingers tangling in downy locks. He ignored the Omega’s startled sound, pressing their foreheads together. In his arms Steven was stiff and the Alpha knew that he most likely had frightened his shy friend with such forwardness and that he should pull away, but he could not bring himself to do so.

“You have become so dear to me,” he admitted quietly, the words so close and yet so far from what he felt, “I will make this promise, but I swear that I see Mjölnir hewn in two before I allow the need for it to ever be fulfilled.”

There was a hitching gasp, Steven’s breath a warm spiral against his cheek, and then the Omega was suddenly holding him just as tightly, his hands fisted in the back of Thor’s cloak. Bright blue eyes stared straight back at him, glossy with emotion – so much emotion; fear and gratitude, relief and stubborn determination, acceptance – and each exhale of their breath mingled together, warmed air that curled against chilled lips and cheeks.

And Thor had never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his life. His eyes flittered down to Steven’s lips, his hand increasing the pressure on the Omega’s nape just so – just enough to urge him closer, to close the distance between them…but Steven ducked down instead, allowing the guiding hand to pull him close enough to bury his head against Thor’s shoulder.

The Alpha let out a nearly silent huff of frustration, eyes flickering shut as he reminded himself that Steven was vulnerable, was frightened and scared, and that the thing he needed was the weight of having to deal with Thor’s feelings as well. He feared that reasoning was losing more and more strength the longer he spent in Steven’s presence. Thor knew himself; he knew his strengths, his faults, far better than most. His father had seen to that. He did not know how much longer he could restrain himself, how much longer he could keep himself from acting on his feelings.  

As if to prove his point, Thor turned, pressed his lips against Steven’s ear, nuzzling into slightly damp hair and taking in deep inhales of a scent that he’d come to love above all others, and whispered his true heart to the trembling Omega with only the tongue of his people, a language long dead to any on Midgard; “Ek elska þik.”

_I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Thor's made his decision, as has Tony. Expect all kinds of domestic goodness with Tony, Bruce, and Peter, and Thor and Steve playing house.


	13. A Quiet Place, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But that’s all this was. A sweet, fleeting dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed (seriously, I'll work on it from my phone later at work).

Steve woke slowly. He was surrounded by warmth; a lumpy yet perfectly comfortable featherbed was underneath him and thick, heavy blankets lay over top of him. A pair of socks, lined with a thick layer of fleece and knitted on the outside in a bright, cheerful red pattern kept his feet warm, and the flannel leggings and long-sleeved shirt did the same for the rest of him. There was also a body, hot and lax, pressed against the length of his side.

Steve let his eyes drift open, his vision taking a moment to adjust to the dimness in the cabin, and only once he could easily make out the naked logs of the ceiling beams did he glance about. The dogs were sleeping curled together in front of the dying fire, and Vala – the grey and black she-dog who had become Steve’s shadow in the past few weeks at the farm – raised her head from where it was resting on the sable fur of her mate’s back to glance at him. She lowered it back down with a huff moments later, seemingly content that Steve wasn’t intent on going anywhere. The Omega let out a soft smile at the dog. In the old days, far back when the majority of the population of the world still lived in rural places, Omegas used to be gifted with a pup when they hit puberty. They’d raise them to adulthood and the dog would be their stalwart companions, ideally to help protect Omegan virtues. Though Vala did not belong to him, Steve couldn’t help but feel like she was _his_ dog. She loyally followed Steve wherever he went, in the same manner that her mate, Surtr, had taken to following Thor about.

There was movement by the fire and Steve felt his eyes widen at the large, _large_ cat that climbed out from around the embers, her silver fur stained with soot and her pregnant belly hanging low. Her name was Ketta and according to Róta, she and her mate – an even larger tom with a black and white coat named Steggr, usually stayed in the barn to protect the animals there. That was probably where Steggr was now, but Ketta was close to birthing and had spent more and more time inside the much warmer cabin.

Steve refused to admit that he was excited by the idea of a possible birth (and kittens, with their soft fur and tiny paws and adorable expressions) was nearby. Ketta crossed the small bedroom, giving the two dogs a wide birth, before disappearing through the low door into the main living area of the cabin. Steve shook his head, pulling the blankets further up to cover his shoulders as he shivered as a particularly hard blast of wind hit the cabin, making it shake. The arm around his waist tightened at the action, drawing him further towards the middle of the bed and the large body that occupied it. Steve’s head turned, observing the sleeping Alpha quietly. Thor’s face was content in sleep, his hair pulled back in a loose braid, a few strands free and hanging fuzzily about his face. On a whim Steve’s fingers reached up, hesitating for just a moment before allowing the digits to run over queerly soft coarseness of Thor’s beard. The Alpha let out a content sigh and Steve smiled affectionately, stroking the well-maintained beard hair.

The last two weeks with Thor had been…they’d been so peaceful. Peaceful and (even if he would only ever admit it in the safety of his own mind) domestic. It hadn’t taken long for the two fall into a routine. Every morning they woke up and Thor made them breakfast. Cooking was not something the Aesir seemed to know well outside of simple fares, things that would easy to be made on the campaign trail, and so he was limited to the humble meals of breakfast. Usually porridge with hot bread or soup, or bacon and eggs with toast. After the morning meal they split ways, Steve to help Róta with chores around the farm while Thor went hunting with Ormi or out onto the ice with Sefa to fish. The first time Thor had gone out on the ice, Steve had been besides himself with worry. And he’d been caught staring out over the water, watching the dot that was the boat and the forms of Thor, Sefa, and Surtr so many times by Róta that she’d eventually just dismissed him to go and worry by the cliff’s edge.

The Omegas would take their lunch in the fields if the day was nice or in one of the barns if it was not, occasionally joined by Thor and Sefa, and had a simple meal that was usually a soup or meat-heavy porridge, and they’d rest for an hour or so before heading back out. Ormi never returned to the farm until the sun had set and on those days that Thor went with him, Steve found his eyes returning to the thick tree-line again and again. He’d been offered to go with the two often, but Steve always turned it down. It wasn’t because he felt like he had to stick with the more Omegan duties of caring for the farm, it was just that he generally liked spending time with Róta and her pup. The female Omega was always full of good stories and cheer, and she seemed eager and willing to explain the subtler details of Vanir culture. More often than not, Steve found himself practicing the Asgardian language alongside little Gyða.

When the evening grew late they’d part ways, Gyða always giving Steve a big hug that set his heart beating heavy with a dangerous want, and he headed back to the cabin to re-start the fire and begin dinner, Vala ever faithfully by his side. Thor would stumble in not long afterwards, always red cheeked from the cold and in a good mood from completing a hard day’s work. Steve often wondered (quietly and to himself, of course) if Thor would have been happier off with a simpler fate then that of a crown prince. The everyday duties of keeping the farmstead going seemed to fill the Alpha with joy in a way that Steve hadn’t seen before.

They’d have dinner together, take turns in the heated springs in the basement (fed, apparently, by an underground geyser though Steve had never found where the water came in, only where it left) and then would climb into the small bed together, tired and with full bellies, and fall asleep to the sound of each other’s breath. It was a humble little lie they’d built for themselves; one that was as sweet as it was simplistic and sometimes, when Steve wanted to be particularly cruel to himself, he allowed himself the fantasy that he could have this. That he could have this life; one of early mornings and hard work, of warm bathes and well-earned food, of dogs and kittens and an Alpha’s gentle hold every night. Sometimes he pretended he could have Thor. The Omega swallowed hard against the tightness in his throat and the burn of his eyes as he stroked Thor’s beard. His fingers traced the line of a strong jaw down to an equally well-formed chin, braving to allow the pads of his fingers to reach up and rest gently against the Alpha’s lips.

But that’s all this was. A sweet, fleeting dream.

At some point Odin would come, or worse, for the Aether inside him. The dream would end and Thor would return to his Jane, and Steve would go back to sleep, and…and…Steve squeezed his eyes shut, taking a shaking breath. Why did he always do this to himself? Why did Steve always try for the thing he knew he could never have? Was Steve really such a glutton for self-punishment? Why was it that he’d have to fall for the one man he couldn’t have? He took another breath, trying for steadying and failing, and it turned into a shocked sound when a warm hand suddenly wrapped lightly around his wrist. Steve’s eyes flew opened, stunned, to find the Aesir Alpha watching him, blue eyes dark in the dim light. The Omega swallowed rapidly, embarrassed and highly aware of how his fingers were still pressed to the taller blond’s lips.

“Thor, I…”

But whatever excuse he was going to make disappeared when his hand was gently tucked with its twin against the big Alpha’s chest and Steve was pulled close. “Hush, Steven. It is late. Sleep.”

The Omega shuddered and nodded, allowing himself to be tucked against Thor’s broad frame. He couldn’t quite help the instinct to burrow in, turning a far too revealing nuzzle into something more benign, tucking his face into Thor’s shoulder. He closed his eyes, revealing in the odd and not often felt feeling of being smaller, of being held tight and of _safety,_ and slipped back into the dream.

* * *

“What if he doesn’t work out? What if we don’t like him? What if he doesn’t like _us?”_ Pepper rambled, her hands twisting around her cell phone. Natasha slid up to the frazzled woman’s side, slipping an arm around the taller Omega’s waist. It was rare that Pepper was ever like this, though if Natasha was completely honest she would say she found the blonde’s nervousness cute.

“Don’t worry so much. It’s of no matter either way. He’s our first interview; if it doesn’t work we just keep looking. We both knew going into this it may take a while.”

Pepper let out a sigh, her own arm wrapping around Natasha’s shoulders as she leaned in to claim a kiss from the shorter Omega. “I know, I just…I want this so badly. We both do.”

Natasha nodded in agreement, letting her tongue dart out and inside the warm and waiting mouth of her mate. She and Pepper had been together for just over a year and married – even if not every state or country recognized it – for nearly just as long. Sometimes it still shocked her, how easily the two of them had fallen together. Natasha had always known she’d preferred other Omegas. She’d known it from the time she was twelve years old, head buried between the knees of another one of the Program Omega's legs and tongue buried deep in the salty-sweet pussy of Petra Ivonovich, three fingers plunging hotly into her own cunt.

But Pepper had only ever been with Alphas and the occasional Beta. When Natasha had first meet her it had been in the vulnerable months following her break-up from the confusing and complicated relationship that had been Tony Stark, under a false name and a false background, Natasha had been in lust almost immediately. Pepper was stunning; all long, long legs and strawberry blonde locks, bright eyes and snarky comments, and Natasha had never _wanted_ so badly before.

Their first tumble in bed had been an eye opener for them both. For Natasha, it was the first time she’d ever truly begun to consider what she felt for the tall blonde was something other than lust. For Pepper, it had been an awakening to a side of her sexuality she’d never imagined. After that, well, they’d just never stopped sleeping together. Slowly it had grown into something else, something more, and it hadn’t taken either long to admit that they wanted a relationship; something long term, something permanent.

The only thing that was missing from their life together was pups. Pepper had always imagined herself an Oma to a single, cheerful pup and Natasha – deeply buried underneath a wall of denial – had always wanted a family as well. Which lead them to this point; interviewing for a potential sire. They were both nervous, even Natasha for all that she didn’t look it, because the truth of the matter was they both wanted this horribly badly. It had actually been Tony that had bullied them into it, providing them with a list of potential sires that was so thoroughly vetted that even Natasha couldn’t find anything wrong with it when she’d gone over it. And very few things met her exacting standards. But that was the mass of contradictions that was Tony Stark. The man was the most self-centered Alpha she’d ever met, thinking almost solely about what he wanted and how to get it, and yet was fiercely loyal to the few that he considered pack. It had taken some time, but Natasha had come to realize that if Pepper or – recently – even herself, asked for the moon Tony would do his damnest to find a way to give it to them.

Their first interview was only minutes away and the most promising of the lot. An Alpha, free from any physical malformations or genetic hick ups, who had passed his psychological interview with flying colors despite the fact that he had a diagnosed record for war-time PTSD. He was active in the community, had a well earning job working for the government, and spent almost of his free time in the veteran’s center. He already had sired several other pups for wanting couples and according to those Natasha had contacted, was more than willing to be involved - or completely uninvovled - in the baby's life as the couple wanted.

Next to her, Pepper’s breath caught and Natasha felt one of her own eyebrows rise in pleasant but very much contained surprise as the Alpha stepped off the elevator and into Pepper’s office. He gave them a mega-watt smile, making his already handsome features even more so, offering his hand to Pepper. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Potts, Mrs. Romanov. It’s a pleasure to meet you, my name is Sam Wilson. I hear you’re looking for a sire for your pups? I’m honored to be considered.”

* * *

Steve grunted as his back impacted the practice mats with a loud _thud,_ rolling instinctively and bouncing up on his feet in time to dart to the side, missing a well-aimed thrust of Thor’s sword. Underneath the cabin proper was a massive natural cavern, half of which was taken up by the extensive hot spring, but the rest of it had long ago been converted to an armory and practice room. They’d been at it for hours, ever since Thor had returned from the woods, a strange look on his face. It was unusual; usually they didn’t come down to practice until after dinner, but Steve had taken one look at Thor and followed the troubled Prince downstairs despite the early hours.

It seemed Róta and Ormi were on their own for the day.

Ever since they'd arrived on the farm, Thor had been teaching Steve the basics of how to wield a sword and the Omega was thankful as ever that he was quick on the pick up because Thor was holding nothing back now, driving them both towards exhaustion as they flew at each other again and again. Steve was panting, his tunic and leggings sticking to him like an uncomfortable second skin, his sword held sloppily as his arms ached. But even that was a pleasure in itself as there were so few that could honestly go head to head with Steve without the Omega spending half the fight worrying about accidentally hurting them.

They were facing each other now, both breathing heavily, and Steve cautiously straightened, his brows furrowed as he held his sword at the ready despite his lax stance. “Thor,” he began quietly, “is there something wrong?” Thor’s expression morphed into something wild and queer and the Omega shifted nervously. “Thor?”

“Ormi and I went into town today. I used their communicator to reach out to my mother.”

Ah. Steve fought a wince as he let his sword point down. “Bad news, I take it?”

Thor’s expression tightened. “I have done something, Steven. Something that I…something that I had no right to do.” The Alpha looked down at his sword, his grip tightening on it until his knuckles were white and when he spoke next, his voice was as forlorn as it was quiet. “Something which you may never forgive me for, my friend.”

“Thor,” Steve began wearily, “what did you do?”

Thor’s jaw worked silently for a few minutes. “You have to understand, Steven, my father is still hell bent on returning you to slumber, despite the fact that my mother and uncle have managed to stall him. And I can’t allow that, don’t you see? I _can’t.”_

A dark ball of foreboding rolled tightly in Steve’s stomach. “Thor-”

“There was a way around it, a way to buy us more time that my mother found in the old laws. Even my father, for all his might, are bound to them.”

“Thor,” the Omega grit out, truly alarmed now, “Thor, what _did you do?”_

The Alpha looked at him, expression lost. “I…I married us, Steven.”

Steve’s sword clattered loudly against the mats as it slipped from his bloodless fingers. _“What?”_

The hiss made Thor wince and the Aesir ran a hand through his hair roughly. “As my husband – as my Prince-concert – you are a member of the royal family. Don’t you see, Steven? Before you had no protections; no family, no house to speak for you. But now my father must contend with myself and mother, who stands are your Omegan familial head. He has no legal ability to order you into slumber. Not without my approval and that of my mother's. I understand that I have taken a huge presumption – that I have most likely acted contrary to your own desires but it was the only way, and I-”

“How could you do this?” Steve whispered, taking a wobbly step backwards. It felt like the ground underneath him was unsteady, as if it was moving beneath his feet.

“I am the High Prince,” Thor said, voice small, “I can…it is within my power to marry any I wish.”

“You…you didn’t even ask me what I wanted.” The Omega snarled without much feeling, the light-headness he felt so strong that he couldn’t put any real power into it. “You can’t just marry someone without their permission, Thor!”

The Alpha seem to wilt before him, before rallying, rising tall. “I know. And if you never forgive me, I would understand. But marriage does not mean a mating and…and I swore to you I would protect you, no matter what the cost.”

“You…” Steve sputtered uselessly, “you…what about your cost, Thor?” He cried, both hands splaying wide in agitation. “You promised me that you would do what needed to be done if it came to it, Thor! You _promised!_ I’d rather sleep for a thousand years then go on living knowing what I’ve taken from you.”

“Taken from me?” Thor’s voice was confused, as was the lines of his mouth and brows.

“How could you think I’d be okay with this?” Steve exploded, chest hot with fury as his dignity soured. “How could you think I could live with myself knowing that you were paying for my freedom this way? You _love_ another, Thor! You love _Jane!_ You’ve told the whole world –  _worlds –_ it a thousand times over. Why would you – how could you do this to her? To me? What kind of man do you take me for that you think I could ever be alright knowing I’ve trapped you in a loveless marriage? That every day you spend with me is one that I’ve taken from you and Jane? Did you think I could live with myself knowing I was keeping you from a mating with the Omega you love?”

The sound of his shouts echoed in the cavernous space, shocking to Steve’s own ears. He so rarely yelled that the sound of it caught himself off guard. A silence hung heavy around them, only broken by the sound of Steve’s panicked breathing. He could feel the hot sting of tears, the pain of feeling like a burden amplified by the guilt he felt at the small sliver of him that _wanted;_ it was so cruel – cruel to everyone involved, that Thor would marry him out of duty – some cruel pantomime of what Steve really wanted.

“Steven,” Thor’s voice was low, each word careful, “is that...are you saying that is your complaint?”

Steve stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Isn’t that enough?”

Thor stalked closer, his movements predatory in a way that made Steve freeze, eyes wide, as Omegan instincts sung loudly in the back of his mind. The Alpha stopped a scant few inches away from him. “That is your only complaint? That my marriage keeps me from Jane? Not that you are bound to me? That you are, in every sense,  ** _mine?”_**

Steve flushed a bright red, ears burning hotly as he realized what he’d inadvertently given away. “Thor…I…” He shook his head, refusing to meet the eyes seeking his own. “I…does it matter?”

There was a low, frustrated growl and then a calloused hand was cupping his jaw, forcing his face up. Steve had half a moment to gasp in disbelief and then Thor had closed the space between them, his breath a warm puff against his lips before pressing down. Steve shuddered, free hand curling tightly around the fabric of the Aesir’s tunic. The kiss deepened, their lips slotting together, Thor letting out a soft hum of approval, and the first swipe of Thor’s _hotwet_ tongue against his lips had Steve buckling, sobbing slightly as his lips opened eagerly. But only seconds later he tore away, stumbling back.

Steve pressed his hand to his lips, eyes wide. “W-Why did you do that?”

Thor said nothing for a long moment, his entire countenance thoughtful. “Because I wanted to.”

“Because you wanted…but Jane! You have Jane!” The Omega exclaimed loudly. “You’re in love with  _Jane,_ don’t toy with my feelings, Thor!”

Thor approached Steve’s shaking form with all the restraint of a man trying to soothe a frightened animal. “I loved Jane, once. But I have…that is,” it was rare to see the self-confident Prince stumble over his words in such a manner and the smaller blond stared, gob smacked at the sight of such nervousness in the usually unflappable Alpha, “my affections have much changed.”

“What?” Steve whispered, barely hoping to believe what he was hearing.

Thor swallowed before the hand was back, this time finger tips stroking over his cheek. “My feelings for Jane have waned…and I…”

“But…Jane…” The Omega said weakly, trembling with confusion.

The hand slid back, cupping the back of his head in a gentle hold. “I barely knew Jane, Steven. I’ve spent hardly two weeks with her in total. I do not know if what I felt for her was ever truly love or a passing infatuation, but over the past few months by your side I have felt something so much deeper than I ever felt for her. She is a lovely woman, and far more deserving than what it is I have given her, but,” Thor gave him a weak, nervous smile, “I have found myself quite taken by you, Steven Rogers.”

“Thor,” the Omega gaped, unable to think of a thing to say.

The hand pulled him closer and Steve blinked hard as Thor’s forehead rested against his own, his icy eyes staring beseeching into his own. “In you I saw an equal, both on the battlefield and off of it. I saw an Omega that was everything I dreamed about as a boy at my father’s knee when I thought of my cohort. I never dared to hope you could feel the same way about me, Steven, but if you-”

But Steve couldn’t take the sweet words anymore and surged forward, arms flying haphazardly around the Alpha’s neck as he pulled him close, as close as they could get, and their lips meet eagerly. The kiss was rough, fueled by enough pent up emotion that it made Steve’s head spin. Thor let out a groan, his hands sliding down Steve’s back to his hips and lower, cupping his cheeks tightly, aligning their hips. And the Omega gasped as the movement pressed Thor’s growing hardness against the cradle of hips, his fingers digging into the Alpha’s muscled shoulder blades. They broke the kiss abruptly, breathing heavily against each other's lips and Steve’s eyes shuttered close in disbelief.

“I don’t even know when I,” Steve shook his head, burrowing his face in the crook of Thor’s neck, clinging tightly. Thor held him just as tightly, his hands stroking over his back, the Alpha taking in deep inhales of Steve’s sweat soaked hair. “This doesn’t feel real.” Steve finished, voice raw.

Thor chuckled, the vibration echoing in Steve’s own chest. “I realized it when I saw you with my cousin; the thought of Fjölnir having you nearly drove me mad with envy.”

Steve pulled back, staring up at the Aesir Alpha in surprise. “Really? I had no idea you even knew Fjölnir had even asked to court me.”

Something dark flashed across Thor’s face, his grip tightening. “He wanted to court you?”

Oh, _oh._ Steve’s eyes widened. Whoops. “…maybe?”

Thor breathed heavily through his nose, his hand curling possessively in the short hair at the Omega’s nape. “I did not know,” the Alpha’s voice sounded almost choked and Steve tried very hard to ignore how the displayed jealousy made his inner Omega preen. “If…that is, you have feelings for my cousin, I will-”

“I told him I just wanted to be friends,” Steve said quietly, tilting his head back slightly. Thor’s eyes zeroed in on the expanse of his neck, still flushed from their exercise and the recent emotion. “I didn’t feel anything like that for him, but I thought…you and Jane, and you said that maybe I should look into taking a mate from one of your people and…and I…well, I thought maybe.”

Thor gathered him close, nearly pulling Steve off his feet as he burrowed his face into the Omegas neck, his hot breath making everything inside of Steve bloom with arousal. He shivered as he felt his ass clench, his hole flexing around nothing as a dribble of slick slipped out. “Say that you’ll be mine, only mine. This marriage is in name only, but I wish for so much more.”

Steve slid his hands around the large Alpha’s middle, resting his head on Thor’s shoulder, eyes fluttering close in disbelief. It didn’t seem real, that he was getting to have this, his deepest desire. That an Alpha like Thor would want him; someone so valiant and strong, someone who could protect him in a way no other Alpha could, who could match his strength - who could _overpower it._ Thor would age at Steve’s rate, who could sire children with him that would grow and thrive and outlive him. It was something that Steve never even allowed himself to fantasize about.

He nodded, mouth dry. “I…” God, why was it so hard to say? Even now, when everything had been laid bare between them, when Thor had all but admitted his own feelings? But Steve was no coward and so he took a steadying breath, pulling away until they were staring at each other once more, and forced himself to speak. “I think I’m in love with you,” he managed, voice hoarse, “I think I have been for a while.”

Thor’s expression was indescribable, and it made the Omega’s heart gallop in his chest as he was pulled into a kiss that made the others they’d share seem like the awkward fumbling of teenage pups. He gasped, hands scrambling for purchase as the Alpha lifted him easily, stumbling under their combined weight as he carried them to one of the settees that circled the hot spring. Their lips didn’t break contact as Thor dropped him down upon it, the kiss deepening and deepening until they broke apart to free Steve of his shirt.

The Omega blushed, feeling it crawl down his chest as his nipples pebbled in the cold air, and Thor’s eyes were ravenous as they stared down at him, his hands petting Steve’s side. “Vænn,” the Alpha breathed, then in English, “the most beautiful thing I’ve ever…”

Steve cried out, legs kicking as his hands dug into the soft strands of Thor’s hair as the Alpha took one of his nipples into his mouth, worrying the nub. He suckled from it like a hungry babe, his free hand working the straps of Steve’s leggings free. The Omega was squirming so hard that Thor had to break away to free him of the fabric, his lips red and bruised, his eyes black with lust. “You too,” Steve panted, his hands pulling almost angrily at Thor’s shirt, “want to feel you, want to feel your skin on mine.”

The Aesir groaned, hands flying up to remove his shirt, tossing it uncaringly over his shoulder. Steve stared unashamedly, taking in the tightly muscled planes of Thor’s chest, hands roaming over the blond chest hair that grew sparser and more golden as it thinned into a happy trail down his belly. When Steve's hands reached his waistband, fingers dipping below it, Thor stood abruptly, hands shaking as he removed first his belt and then his leggings and undergarments. And then he was back, and the feel of the whole of his body pressed against Steve’s, nothing but hot skin and muscle, made the Omega moan whorishly. He would have been embarrassed by the sound, but Thor was speaking again, such wonderful words that made the sound repeat itself as slick slipped down his thighs and onto the settee.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” Thor muttered, voice haggard, “every night when you laid down besides, every moment I woke with you in my arms. Did you never wonder why I was always the first to rise? It is not because I enjoy the mornings, I promise you. It was so that you would not awake to the feel my manhood digging into you.”

Steve whined, legs spreading wide, one falling off the settee to find purchase on the stone floor as the Alpha ground their hard cocks between them.

“Every morning was a battle not to take you; I’d wake with your plush ass pressed against me, with only a few layers keeping your sweet Omega-warmth from my cock.” Thor growled out, cursing loudly as his hand encircled them both and pumped. “Do you know how often I’ve decorated this hot spring with my cum?”

Steve cried out, nails digging into Thor’s ridiculously thick biceps as he stared at their cocks pressed flush against each other. Thor’s cock was big, the size of dick that usually only found in porn that declared they had ‘pedigree Alphas’ in it. It was a deep red, thick with fat veins that were displayed prominently along it, and both its helmet-shaped knob and the loose skin around his base were a deep, purple-maroon. The Omega licked his lips as the protective hood peeled away with the first pump of Thor’s hand, watching as a milky strand of pre-cum slipped free of the Alpha’s slit and ran watery down the side.

“Every day, Steven.” Thor continued, the breaths panted against Steve’s open lips. “Every day I fucked my fist raw to the thought of taking you.”

“Please,” the Omega whimpered, spreading his legs as wide as he could, _“please.”_

“Oh my love,” Thor whispered, his eyes frighteningly affectionate as he lined his dick up with Steve’s pulsing opening, “you never have to beg, not for this."

And then he was pressing in and…and _oh, god._ Steve vision honest to god whited out, his hands flying up to tug at his hair as he was utterly overcome. It had been _so long_ since he’d been with anyone, and he’d never been with an Alpha, and the feel of Thor’s cock was unbelievably, overwhelmingly good and it was still pressing in, spreading him further apart. A strong hand pulled at his own, coaxing them out of his hair and pinning them to the settee arm while its twin locked on Steve’s waist, holding him firm as Thor began a punishing pace.

There was a strangled sound and Steve stared, entranced, at the vision above him. Thor’s hair was falling loose from his pony tail, long strands sticking to his cheeks and forehead, another few to the column of his neck. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lips parted and glistening, his red tongue only just visible. “You’re so tight; I knew you would be.”

Steve rolled his hips back to meet the next thrust and Thor’s eyes flew open. For a moment movement stilled between the two of them as they stared at each other, expression open and unguarded, and then Steve was being pulled forwards and up, onto Thor’s lap, and the Omega keened as the move shifted the hard cock inside him, somehow driving it even deeper. Thor was mumbling in his own language as he mouthed at Steve’s neck, bouncing Steve on his cock in a hard uneven, unforgiving pace. Steve’s arms wrapped tightly around the Alpha’s shoulders, one hand pinning Thor’s head against his neck, body pulling tighter and tighter with each thrust. He didn’t know how long their fevered fucking lasted; their bodies grew slippery with sweat and slick, making lewd slapping and sucking sounds that echoed in the open space. Each bruising thrust of Thor’s cock made his cheeks sting in the best way and Steve could cry at how perfect it all felt.

“I knew,” Thor growled, “I knew you’d feel perfect. So wet, so _tight._ This is just for me, isn’t it, darling? You’re so wet, just for me.”

Steve nodded, willing to agree to anything if meant that Thor would just keep moving. He let out a gasp as they shifted again, Thor slamming him roughly on his shoulders, hips high in the air, his legs thrown up and over the Alpha’s shoulders. Thor bore down on him hard and Steve’s eyes flew wide in stunned surprise, spine arching at the deep penetration. Their coupling grew slower, each harsh thrust pressing Thor’s full weight down and the length of his cock deep inside.

“Look at you.” Thor marveled, his eyes dark with possessive and half-lidded with want. He ground his hips in a tight circle and Steve’s hands scrabbled wildly at his own chest as the Alpha's cockhead slid deeper, the sweet-sharp ting of pain echoing through his center as it pressed unforgivingly against the entrance of his womb. Another thrust hit it dead on and the Omega screamed, head slamming hard against the settee arm as he came, his insides locking down hard on the thick cock, gripping tightly to try and keep it pressed against his opening.

Thor was cursing above him, head thrown back as veins in his neck popped and pulsed wildly. His hands held Steve’s hips in a bruising hold, pinning the Omega’s hips flush against his own despite the fact that nothing in the world could have made Steve try and pull away. Instinct drove them both now; Steve's passage clung tightly, spasming and contracting around the fat Alpha cock to try and coax an orgasm while Thor was driven to keep their coupling as close as possible. Thor’s knot began to throb and swell inside him and Steve mewed breathlessly, pushed past oversensitivity as the flesh forced the rippling muscles of his passage wider to accept it. It was too much – too much and Steve was sobbing, head shaking to and fro as his nails bit into Thor’s arms as the swelling kept growing, kept prying him open in the best type of pain, and just when the Omega thought he’d rip apart, it settled. Thor’s hips rocked, his glistening chest heaving as he came in slow waves that Steve swore he could _feel_ against his cervix.

For a moment Steve let himself imagine it surging into him, filling him until there wasn’t a chance that he was not carrying Thor’s child. But it was only that; a dream. Their relationship was too young, too new for a pup to be introduced. Besides, one of the first things Bruce had seen to was that Steve had gotten a birth control implant. While they had been unsure about whether or not Steve was even fertile, he still had heats and the implant ensured that he wouldn’t have any for at least three years.

Modern technology was an amazing thing. A major step up from the forties, that was sure.

But still…he could almost see it; a tiny pup, with golden hair and pretty little blue eyes…

Fingers brushed at his face, tracing the lazy smile of his lips, and when Steve opened his eyes it was to find Thor watching him, expression soft and fond. “What are you thinking about to have such a sweet smile?” Steve shook his head as he turned and kissed the Alpha’s fingertips. “Come now,” Thor wheedled, gathering the Omega up into his arms and moving them into a more comfortable position, Steve balanced carefully in his lap. The smaller blond sighed at how it made the knot tug pleasantly at his rim, reminding him just how full he was, of how tightly he was connected to his Alpha’s body, “tell me.”

“Nothing,” Steve murmured, letting his head rest against the Alpha’s shoulder in exhaustion, “just…just happy.” He yawned, fingers curling lightly in the downy fur that covered Thor’s chest. “I may fall asleep.”

A kiss was pressed against his forehead, Thor humming quietly. “Sleep if you need it. I will wake you when the knot has gone down. It is probably time to feed you again; we may have drained your body’s reserves mating so soon after a spar.” Steve stilled against Thor’s chest at the reminder of the Aether inside of him. Dread creeped across his mind as reality crashed harshly against the contented fog that had damped his post-sex thoughts. What had really changed? He and Thor may have mated, but that didn't change the fact that Steve was a ticking time bomb. In fact, this may have complicated things beyond belief.

If it came to killing or putting Steve to sleep as the only way to stop the Aether from being released…Steve had a hard enough time convincing Thor to do the right thing as a friend. But now? Now Steve was Thor’s husband, his Omega-mate (and how a part of him curled happily at that thought, as pleased and content as a cat in the morning sun, even amongst the dark slant of his thoughts) and his Alpha would be driven by instinct alone to keep him safe and sheltered. Could he trust Thor to do the right thing if it came to that? He began to pull back slightly, lips pursing, but the Alpha’s hand on his back stilled the movement. “Do not think on it, Steven. Not now. We can speak on the Aether all you want once you’ve rested.”

“Thor…” Steve whispered wearily, but the Alpha was insistent, arms wrapping tightly around him, holding him close. After a moment he gave up, nestling in against Thor. “Don’t let me sleep for too long.”

“Of course, my love.”

_My love._

Steve hid his stupidly wide grin against Thor’s shoulder, but he had a feeling the Alpha had caught it anyway if his smug, contented rumble that followed him into sleep was anything to go by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, finally. They're mated. And married. Jesus, thank you. And hey, look! It's Sam!


	14. A Unexpected Visitor, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frigga threw her hands up, the hologram turning, her cloak spreading wide behind her like wings. “I had thought your stint in Midgard would have cured you of your foolhardy ways, but clearly I was wrong.” The Queen said with a sigh, head bowing as she rubbed at her forehead wearily. “Your father is furious. I have not seen him this angry since the day of your coronation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go; An Unexpected Visitor, Part 1.

Waking was somehow both disorienting and perfect for Steve and the Omega sighed contently as he burrowed further into his pillow, wholly content underneath Thor’s heavy weight. Such a sleeping position was usually only reserved for mates or couples who had been dating for a long time, and Steve had no idea just how much a part of him had been longing for this until it had happened. His instincts felt drunk on it, feeling warm and safe under the weight of his Alpha’s body, secure in the knowledge that absolutely nothing could touch him without going through Thor first. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so completely and so relaxed.

Still, Steve had always been early riser even before joining the military (though the Army had certainly cemented the habit) and he slid out from underneath his slumbering mate’s form, shushing Thor’s unhappy grumbles with a kiss to the cheek and a gentle caress of his mate’s soft hair.

 _His mate,_ how those words made him giddy. They’d been mated for nearly a week and Steve still felt like he was going to wake up at any moment. Steve watched Thor fondly, taking in the way the Alpha curled tightly around Steve’s pillow, the act oddly reminding the Omega of a little kid. He let out a sigh, turning from the large form and heading out of the bedroom. Vala rose to join him, her paws silent on the wood floors. Steve paused before the door, taking a moment to secure his winter outerwear before stepping into the morning light.

As usual, the cold was so sharp it stole his breath, but Steve basked in it. It the reminder that he was alive, that this was all real. That he, Steve Rogers, weak and scrawny Omega from Brooklyn, was alive and well on a planet millions of miles from his own, with an alien Prince as a mate. Oh, if only Bucky could see him now. He could just imagine his friend’s teasing. But Steve pushed the thought away before it could become something sorrowful, putting his left leather glove at the same time he pulled the right one firm with his teeth. By his side, Vala suddenly perked up, standing tall, her ears forward as her tail quivered by her side. Steve took in the motion, brows furrowed, before glancing about the farm proper to try and find the source of the dog’s interest.

At first he saw nothing, eyes narrowing as he scanned the empty farm. His brows furrowed in confusion as he caught sight of Sefa sprinting at full speed from the opposite end of the farm, her blonde hair loose of its normal cap and without even a winter cloak to keep her warm.

“What on earth…” His surprised words faded off as he caught sight of another figure, one standing on the very edge of the property, just where the tree line ended. He saw the stag first, a unbelievably tall and fierce looking deer, its thick winter fur a brilliant scarlet and with an impressive rack of horns. It was easily the size of a Earth draft horse, if not larger. By its side, the stag’s reins held loosely in one hand, was a boy.

He appeared to be perhaps ten or eleven, somewhere there about by his height, and at this distance even Steve’s enhanced eyesight could only make out golden hair and the deep, dark grey of his fur stole and the black of his clothing. It was as if a spell had been cast, the young boy seemed unreal in the soft misty haze that the lake brought, he and his beast stark dots of color against the white of winter and Steve stared, totally entrapped. It was only when Sefa broke the last of the fields, the young Alpha leaping over the fence in an impressive show of agility, that he felt he could look away. The female Alpha came to a skidding stop before him, her cheeks flags of red and her breath harsh pants.

“My lord, we have a visitor.”

“I see him.” Steve said, reluctantly tearing his eyes from the form. “What is he doing? Why isn’t he coming closer?”

“He is being polite, milord.” Sefa said softly, breath still a struggling pant.

“Polite?”

“Yes,” the Alpha rubbed her naked hands against her tunic, “he is letting us see that he is real; that he is not a trick of the mist.”

“Ah.” Steve sounded slowly, as if that explained anything. “Is that a concern we have?”

Sefa’s lips quirked in a grin, and all at once Steve could see how Róta had fallen for her, the Alpha looking suddenly clever and young. “At times. The mists of Aflheim can produce all kinds of tricks and maladies if so inclined.”

“I…see.” Steve’s eyes turned back to the figure, only to jolt in surprise to find that the boy had begun to move forward, moving at a even, steady pace that belied the quickness of his approach. Steve could not help a quiet shudder as the boy drew up the path, his mind unable to fathom how quickly he approached with the slow, meandering pace he seemed to take. Even with all that he had seemed in Thor’s realms, there were still things that caught him off guard, that put him at ill ease, and more than ever Steve was aware that he was not of this place; that he, not Thor, or Sefa or Róta, was the alien.

As the boy drew closer, Sefa let out a hushed sound of disbelief, dropping to a knee in the ground, head bowed as her fist pressed against her chest. Steve watched the move in surprise and when he looked up again he blanched to find the boy standing before him.

The first thing that struck him was the fierceness of his features, despite the mask of youth that they bore. His eyes were the same grey one found in a storm, his eyes somehow both infinity old and youthful at once. His hair was the same golden found in so many of the Aesir and Vanir, shaved lightly on the sides and grown long atop, the strands pulled back in a braid that hung down his back. He had an impressive tattoo that wrapped around the sides of his skull, the ink a deep blue that matched the wintery lake behind them. Though Steve could see little of it, he could make out the fierce, gaping maw of a roaring wolf.

“My Prince Vidar,” Sefa said steadily, her gasping breaths gone, and Steve jerked in surprise as he took in the grim visage of Thor’s youngest brother, “I bid you welcome to your Uncle-King’s lands.”

Vidar’s head inclined ever so slightly, the stag’s reins slipping from him as he stepped forward. His small hand was feather light in its touch against Sefa’s bowed head, yet the female Alpha shuddered as if it had been much harder. Vidar stood barely to Steve’s sternum, but he seemed somehow larger, greater. The young boy’s scent was muted, still bearing the markers of a pup, yet undeniably Alpha. Those grey eyes turned to him and Steve felt himself still, stand taller under the weight he found there.

Steve felt oddly lay bare before those eyes, his heart an uneven staccato in his chest. The stare seemed to go on endlessly, and the Omega felt as if the ground beneath him was uneven, or not there at all, as if he was somehow being drawn into the boy’s eyes, lost in the grey there. And all at once, Steve was aware that he was staring at not a child – but a God.

A gentle touch to his nape broke the spell and Steve started, head twisting to find a sleep mused Thor standing beside him, the loveliest of smiles on his face.

“Enough of that, I think.” Thor admonished, though his tone was kind. “Hello, little brother.”

Vidar’s face broke into a smile, grey eyes twinkling, a boy once more, and stepped forward into Thor’s waiting arms.

* * *

“It just…it’s a lot, Tony.” Bruce mumbled, voice uncomfortable, but the fulsome Alpha at his side just smirked. They’d been out shopping for the most of the day at Tony’s suggestion. While most of what they’d purchased had been for Peter, Tony had slipped away on his own and bought enough clothes to give a significant boost to Bruce’s meager wardrobe. The Omega had been appalled when he realized how much Tony had spent on him.

Despite his covert purchases, most of what had been bought was for Peter. The tiny pup was dead asleep in Bruce’s arms, his new haircut just as floppy as the old once but much more orderly, his face hidden in the warm curve of Bruce’s neck. His weight was so welcomed in Bruce’s arms, speaking to a quietly desperate part of himself that Bruce hardly ever allowed himself to feel, much less acknowledge. A pup felt so right curled against his chest, and the simple trust Peter showed him to sleep so easily made the Omega’s heart hum contently.

“Hey man, how many times you gonna subject the world to the same three shirts? Or me, for that matter?” Tony joked and Bruce bit his lip as a hand came to rest on his lower back. Tony had been doing that – touching him – more and more often lately. Bruce knew he should push him away, that he should nip this in the butt before it could grow into something more, something more complicated.

But it was _so hard._

Tony was everything that Bruce had never even dared to fantasize about in an Alpha, everything he hadn’t known he’d wanted. It spoke deeply of the type of luck he’d had his whole life that he’d find the perfect Alpha when he couldn’t have him. Bruce knew what Tony wanted; the older Alpha was hardly subtle about anything and certainly not in his pursuit of Bruce.

But…but Bruce just _couldn’t._ Tony deserved so much more than being mated to a freak of nature like himself – a freak that could snap and kill him at any moment. Peter shifted in his arms, letting out a small whimper before curling tighter against Bruce’s chest and the Omega’s arms tightened around the small body in response, head turning to nuzzle at soft hair and even softer skin in comfort. Immediately the little form relaxed, going completely limp when Tony’s hand rose to stroke his hair and cup the back of his nape.

Peter had been scarce with information about where he’d come from and what had happened to him, but he had been staying with Tony Stark for over a week and half. Within the first day Tony had found his identity – Peter Benjamin Parker, aged six, orphan of first an accident and then a murder. May Parker had been murdered in her own home, in what the police labeled a home invasion and what Tony had dismissed as something far more complicated. _“It’s all too clean,”_ Tony had said darkly as they read over the police files, _“this looks professional to me. And Peter – I think Peter was home when it happened. I think that’s why he ran. He’s so against anyone in the system knowing where he is. There has to be a reason for that.”_

Bruce tended to agree with Tony; Peter was far too scared of something. Of someone. But the little boy refused to speak of it, had shut down so hard and so thoroughly when they first dared to ask that they’d never tried again. It had taken them nearly half a day to get Peter to stop crying and far longer to get him out from underneath Tony’s bed. Neither one of them was willing to relive that experience again. The sight of Peter, curled tightly around his bear, far out of reach under Tony’s bed, had hurt like a physical wound.

Bruce glanced up, feeling his throat tighten at the sight reflected back at them in the polished metal and glass of the elevator. They…they looked like a family, Bruce realized with a rough breath. An Alpha, face soft with affection, his lips quirked in a fond smile, as he soothed his sleeping pup in the arms of his Omega-mate. But they weren’t a family. This was something that Bruce could never be allowed to have and it _hurt._

Tony frown, expression shifting to worried as Bruce ducked his head, blinking back tears, but hurried from the lift when the doors open to escape any questions. He headed towards Tony’s room, intending to set Peter down on the oversized California so he could finish his nap, but a hand on his elbow stopped him.

“Not that way,” Tony said mysteriously, “come on.”

He led them to one of his guest rooms, one that now bore a door that held a wooden plank carved to look like the moon and read _‘Peter’s Room.’_ He shot a surprised look at Tony, but whatever he was going to say was stalled when Tony opened the door. The entire room had been transformed from a modern suite into a child’s room. The rooms were painted in white, greys, and blues to look like mountains, the ceiling a dark charcoal with bright stars and constellations painted and outlined on it. The ceiling light had been redone to look like the map of the moon, accurate to a fault.

The wood floor was covered mostly by a white-beige plushy rug and the large windows were framed by white and grey chevron curtains. There was a teepee with a cheerful print in one corner, with a faux fire pit made from a series of plushies. One half of the giant room had been converted into a play area, with a bright yellow couch covered in forest themed throw pillows and a thick, brown furred blanket. There was a blue and green arm chair nestled next to a series of grey book cases that were stuffed to the brim with science books. There was also a sleek, modern wooden desk with the latest Stark Tec. laptop resting on it.

The other side of the room held a large dresser, their purchases of the day somehow already tucked into it, covered in techno-gizmos that Bruce didn’t doubt for a moment Tony had made for the child. Next to it was a comfy looking twin bed, the covers already drawn back, and Peter’s precious bear resting on it.

Bruce turned to look at Tony, mouth working uselessly. “How…when did you do all this? While we were out?”

Tony just grinned. “I only hire the best, babe. Wanted it to be a surprise. Think the kid’ll like it?”

“Like it? Tony, I love it and I’m not six.” Bruce said with a laugh of disbelief. He shook his head. “This…Tony, this is wonderful. But don’t you think, I mean…” Bruce paused, unsure how to phrase his question. “Don’t you think this might be a bit confusing for him?”

“Confusing?”

“I mean,” Bruce paused again, shifting uncomfortable, “aren’t you afraid that this might send…this all seems rather…permanent. Like you mean to keep Peter.”

Which was a dangerous thing to make an already damaged little boy think.

“Who says I don’t?” Tony’s voice was dead serious and his expression was a reflection of it. And for the second time for the day Bruce was struck speechless. He swallowed, picking his words carefully.

“Tony, this isn’t something you can just decide. Raising a kid is hard for anyone, much less alone. Besides the legality of it all – I mean, at some point you’d have to let social services know he’s here. Go through the whole adoption process-”

“I’ve already got my lawyer working on it.”

“Tony,” Bruce said, frustrated, “this isn’t something you can decide on a whim. After everything that’s happened, Peter needs stability. And if you change your mind, Peter will be heartbroken.”

“I’m not going to change my mind, Bruce.” Tony said, his frown thunderous. “This isn’t something I decided to do off the cuff. Jesus, Banner, give me some credit.” The Alpha ran a hand through his hair, obviously frustrated. “Peter is…he’s special. He deserves so much more than the streets or ending up in a foster home with god knows who. His scores are off that chart-” – and Bruce _knew_ those quiz games he’d found Peter playing on Tony’s laptop were some sort of IQ tests – “and he needs someone who understands what that’s like. Someone who won’t talk down to him because of his age and nurture his intelligence.”

“Someone like you.”

“Someone exactly like me.” Tony finished with a smirk. “Besides, I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t have to do it alone.”

“Pepper is about to have a pup of her own, Tony, she’s going to be far too busy to help you raise a child. Not to mention how incredibly unfair that is to ask of her after everything.” Bruce snapped tightly, indignant on the other Omega’s behalf. Tony’s smile slipped.

“I, uh, wasn’t talking about Pepper.”

“Then who…” Bruce faded off, eyes widening at Tony’s pointed stare. “Tony…” He said wearily, shifting Peter’s heavy form. “Tony, I…”

“Don’t tell me this isn’t something you want.” The Alpha said, voice gone dangerously low. He took a step into Bruce’s space, a hand reaching out to gently stroke Peter’s sleeping back. “I’ve seen you with him.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Bruce whispered, quivering, denying even as he desperately _wanted._

“Yes, I do.”

“It wouldn’t be fair.”

“To who?”

“To whoever you eventually mate.” Bruce said stubbornly, refusing to meet the Alpha’s eyes. “You’re right, Peter does deserve to have a second parent – either a mother or an Oma. And if you have me in the picture, filling the part – I know you’re not ignorant enough with relationships to see how that could be intimidating to someone.”

There was a strained silence, then an incredulous snort. “Tell me you’re not serious.” Another stretched silence. “Damn’t, Bruce.” The free hand not on Peter rose up, curling possessively around Bruce’s neck and shocking the Omega’s eyes up. Tony’s expression was blank, but his eyes burned furiously bright. “I have no idea if you’re really that naïve or if you’re playing coy, but just in case I haven’t been clear enough here, I’ll spell it out for you.” The Alpha took another step forward, close enough that tips of their shoes brushed, close enough that only Peter’s small form kept their chests from touching. “I want you. I want everything you have. I want my name on your driver’s license. I want your shit embroidered with Stark. I want you, Bruce Banner, in every way that I can have you. And then I want more.”

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room and Bruce was lost, footing unsure, and he swayed where he stood. “Tony,” he croaked out, eyes tearing, _“I can’t.”_

“Why?” Tony demanded, tone harsh yet quiet enough not to wake the sleeping boy. “Give me one goddamn reason _why?_ I know you want it, I know you want me.” He leaned down and Bruce shuddered when a nose nestled into his hair, scenting deeply. “I can smell it on you. I can smell how much you want this.”

And Bruce did want him. He wanted Tony Stark bad enough that even now he could feel the telltale twists of lust, even with his arms full of pup. He let out a sob, turning his head away from the Alpha’s warmth. “You know why.”

“Because of the Big Guy?”

“Because of everything.” The Omega whispered brokenly.

“That’s not good enough, Bruce.” Tony snapped, voice hurt, and lips pulled thin. “If you’re gonna deny us this, then I want to know why. Specifics.”

God, why was Tony doing this?

“Besides the fact that I could lose it and squish you at any moment?”

Tony tapped the heart monitor on his wrist. “You’ve been Hulk free for months. We haven’t seen the Big Guy unless you’ve wanted to.”

“That isn’t a guarantee, that doesn’t mean anything.” Bruce said lowly, hiding his face in Peter’s hair. “…I don’t have heats. I’m barren. I could never give you children.”

“So what?” Tony dismissed with such a shocking ease that Bruce felt hurt flare painfully in his chest. “Even if you could, I couldn’t.” The Alpha tapped at his chest, where the Arc was. “I’ve been sterile for years. I won’t ever have a rut again, either. Besides, we could have Peter.”

And just like that, the hurt died off. But that wasn’t all. Bruce wished that was all. “I can’t have sex.” He admitted, voice so low it was barely even a breath. “My pulse…it’s too dangerous.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, just long enough for the Omega to shrink into himself even more, to feel embarrassment and uselessness war evenly inside him. Useless, pointless Omega. Couldn’t even masturbate, much less satisfy an Alpha. But then the hand on his neck squeezed tightly.

“I don’t care about that.”

Bruce laughed, the sound loud in the tense room, but thankfully Peter didn’t so much as twitch. “You expect me to believe that? You expect me to believe that Tony Stark doesn’t care about sex?”

“I said it wasn’t an issue.” Tony repeated, voice harsh. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in my forties. The sex drive’s not what it used to be. Besides, I’ve got my hand if I need to, and toys to take care of me if it comes to that. I don’t care if I can’t fuck you, Bruce.” The hand tightened, forcing him to look at him again. “I said I wanted you, babe. And that means in any way I can have you. If that means no sex, who cares? I sure as hell don’t. What happens in our marriage bed isn’t anyone’s business but our own.”

“Marriage bed?” Bruce repeated, astonished at the concept. Tony couldn’t be serious, could he? But he seemed to be. He seemed to be very serious.

_Besides, we could have Peter._

Bruce’s breath hitched, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. “I need some time to…to think. I…I still don’t think it’s a good idea. I could hurt you. Or P-Peter.” He stumbled over the name, the idea to horrific to even comprehend.

“I don’t believe that.” Tony said firmly, “not for a moment. But yeah, I can give you time.”

But even as he granted the wish, the hand in Bruce’s hair tightened into a fist, pulling him close. Bruce gasped, lips parting in surprise as Tony angled their faces. The kiss was sweet; a feather soft contact that had him moaning lightly as a hand came up to tangle in the back of Tony’s jacket without thought. The kiss deepened, the press of the Alpha’s lips more insistent, but it was still so chaste, gentle in a way he hadn’t thought Tony capable of.

When he finally pulled away, Bruce knew his face had to be bright red and splotchy. “Cheater.” He breathed, lips still warm and tingling from the kiss.

Tony’s answering grin was wicked. “Never claimed to play fair, babe.”

* * *

“He does not speak, that one.” A low, gruff voice offered and Steve tore his eyes away from where he was watching Thor pretend to throw a squirming Vidar into a snow pile. No matter how he acted now, Steve was having a hard time equating the cheerful boy with the intense...well, _god,_ that he had met earlier. Ormi stood before him, a deer carcass – or at least Steve thought it was a deer, it has far more legs then Steve usually would have associated with the animal, and a second tail – thrown over his shoulder. The Omega hadn’t seen much of the aging Beta, Ormi off hunting more often than not, but the entire family, including little Gyða, had come to their cabin to greet the youngest Odinson.

“It is said,” Ormi continued, his hand stroking his white beard, “that when he was still a toddler, not even fifty summers yet, he snuck away from the distracted gazes of his brothers while they gamed. No one is sure how one so young and small made it to the Well of Urd, or how long the pup stared into its waters before he was found by the High King. But from the day on, the young Prince did not speak.”

Steve shuddered, wrapping his fur cloak tighter around himself, feeling unsure as he watched Thor gently set his brother down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “He is still young, though, isn’t he? Even for an Aesir? Is it normal for someone so young to travel far alone like that?”

“It is not,” Ormi said with a shrug, “but the young Prince is hardly normal.”

Steve shot the Beta a disgruntled look, not appreciating the comment and unsure of its foundations, but Ormi was already moving towards the barn with his kill. Thor was approaching him, Vidar a quiet shadow by his side. The Alpha reached out, slipping his hand beneath Steve’s cloak to wrap around his waist, pulling him to his side. A chaste kiss not unlike that was given to his brother was pressed against his forehead, yet Steve still felt a shiver of want pass through him at the feel of it.

“My love,” Thor said, the smile evident in his tone, “may I formally introduce you to my youngest brother, Prince Vidar Odinson. Vidar, this is my Omega-mate, my Prince-consort, Steven Rogers of Midgard.”

The Omega blushed, the title throwing him off somewhat, even if he knew that it was his now. “Nice to meet you.”

Vidar’s head tilted to the side, eyes glancing from Steve to Thor. The Alpha shrugged, as if some conversation had taken place. “No one as of yet, you are the first to know.” There was a wink, “as befitting my favorite brother.”

The little Alpha huffed, eyes rolling, and Steve found himself charmed despite himself by the action. Gyða tottered forward, holding tightly what seemed like a monstrously large cup in her small hands, and she offered it to Vidar. The Prince smiled, his expression gentle and kind as he took the steaming drink, his hand patting the blonde curls. He took a sip of it, nodding his thanks to a blushing Róta, before turning on his heel and heading towards the stables. He paused, looking over his shoulder and Thor pressed a fleeting kiss against Steve’s lips, making his cheeks heat as both Sefa and Róta grinned at the action, before releasing him to follow after his brother.

Steve felt the smile on his lips mute as they moved towards the stables, undoubtedly to check on Vidar’s stag, watching their retreating backs. There was a movement from his right, Róta stepping quietly to his side with a cup of hot tea for himself. The Omega ducked her head to the side, her brows furrowing as she took in Steve’s troubled visage. “Is everything quite alright, milord?”

“Yes,” Steve answered distractedly, taking the offered cup, hands wrapping greedily around its heat. “I'm not sure why Vidar has come here.”

Róta exchanged a look with her mate, Sefa lifting Gyða into her arms before starting towards the stable herself. “It could mean nothing,” the brunette Omega said softly. Neither she nor her mate knew why Steve and Thor had fled to the farm, but he knew they weren’t stupid by any means and must have guessed that it was because of some sort of trouble. “But…”

Steve turned to look at her, jaw muscles jumping as he took in Róta’s hesitation. “But?”

“It is…that is, it is said that Lord Vidar is…special.”

“How so?”

Róta licked her lips nervously, rubbing her mittens together in discomfort, and when she spoke next, her voice was a whisper. “It is said that when Ragnarök comes, it will be Lord Vidar that survives us all.”

Steve frowned, unsettled by Róta’s words. “Ragnarök? What is-”

But the Omega was already shaking her head, stepping past Steve and towards the barn. “Never mind me, milord. Sefa always says I jump at shadows. I should see to the animals, Sefa may need my help.”

Steve stared after her, feeling not for the first time helpless and out of his depth, and utterly unsure why the presence of one little boy made his skin crawl with unease.

* * *

Everything was pain. Matt groaned as his hands felt along the familiar brick of his roof top. Or at least, he was fairly sure it was his roof top. The fight with Yoshioka had taken nearly everything he had, and the one that followed it had robbed him of whatever was left. He felt broken, utterly broken, after Fisk. The ache he felt was not only physical and Matt fought the urge to cry as he felt the glass panels of his sky lights. He slipped the pane open, but given how weak he was the act of slipping inside – a move he’d done a thousand times over the last few weeks – was too much.

He free fell, crying out as he landed harshly on his feet. He fell backwards immediately, sprawling on his back and panting harshly. He blinked hard against tears, his breath a horrible wet sound, mixed with a whine broken only by the rattle in his chest. He heard the thud of footsteps coming from his bedroom, felt the vibrations through the wood floor, and suddenly he was being lifted up, big hands yanking his mask from his face.

“Matt? Ah, Christ sweetheart.”

“C-Clint?”

“Don’t speak, baby. Fuck, what the hell have you done to yourself?” The Alpha’s tone sounded frantic, for all that his words were calm and even. Matt gasped as he was pulled up into a warm lap, his ribs shifting dangerously inside him, and he felt the cuts on his side rend further apart, blood pooling before dripping down the side. Was he dying? He had to be, it certainly felt like it he was dying. Clint was still speaking above him, words growing more and more worried, spaced with harsh cussing that was totally unlike the Alpha outside of their bed.

“- idiot. Of course you’re the Devil, when the hell have I ever been attracted to anyone normal?” Clint raged, his hands pressing harshly against the bleeding wounds on Matt’s side and the Omega whimpered, trying to squirm away from the touch. “Nat?” Matt blinked, that was odd. Who was Nat? “I need you. Now, no questions. Bring the med kit. The big one. I’m sending you the address.”

Matt’s head felt like it was floating away from his body, his breath growing harder and harder to catch. The Omega reached up blindly, too exhausted to use his powers, but desperately needing to touch. A calloused hand caught his own, lowering it. “Don’t move,” Clint choked out, sounding more upset then Matt had ever heard him, “you idiot. What the hell were you thinking?”

Matt fought to free his hands, managing to only pull one away and raising it to clumsily brush up against a stubbly chin. “I…” And when had his voice ever sounded like that? So weak and helpless, like a kitten mewing for its mother. “I,” he tried again, swallowing around a dry mouth, “I love you.” His hand dropped against his chest, a blackness like and yet utterly unlike the one that ruled his life closing in. “Just…thought you…should know.”

And then, nothing.

* * *

Steve woke the sound of voices and an empty bed. He blinked in the darkness, before slipping from the warmth of the covers. He shivered as the cold struck him, reaching out for where Thor’s cloak was draped over a nearby chair. He wrapped it around himself, the thick wool immediately easing the night’s winter chill. He approached the bedroom door, brows furrowed as he peeked through the open crack. The living area was illuminated with a faint, yellowish light, and the figure of Queen Frigga stood there. Though she was a hologram, it was easy to see her displeasure, the emotion practically radiating off of her. Thor stood before her, back ramrod straight, while Vidar sat on the hearth of fire, his head resting against his hand.

“-hopelessly complicated matters.” Frigga’s voice was short and sharp. “And to believe I raised a son that would marry another without their permission.”

“I will not deny that I should have consulted Steven before contacting the Norns, but it is done. Steven is my mate. And what is more, he has confessed to me that his heart is the same.” Thor shot back, tone defiant. “Was it not you who counseled me to find my true feelings and act on them ?”

Frigga threw her hands up, the hologram turning, her cloak spreading wide behind her like wings. “I had thought your stint in Midgard would have cured you of your foolhardy ways, but clearly I was wrong.” The Queen said with a sigh, head bowing as she rubbed at her forehead wearily. “Your father is _furious._ I have not seen him this angry since the day of your coronation.”

“And you mother?” Thor asked, hands spread in a beseeching motion, “have you only called to scold me? Do you to seek to deny me my happiness?”

Frigga turned to look once more at her eldest, her expression softening. “No. No, my son. I do not. Steven Rogers is a fine man, I have no doubt he will be a good mate for you. I only worry. You must be understanding, my son. You must think of how this looks. Not long ago you spoke such words about the Midgardian Jane Foster and now you speak them about another. Can you not see how that troubles many? How there could be fear that this is another impulsive decision? A king must be steady, my son. Our people do not experience change easily; it is not a natural thing to a people who lives are as lengthy as our own. Nor do they seek to see it brought so quickly by their rulers. And that is to say nothing to the reactions to the attack; one which cause is well known.”

“These are not your words.” Thor’s voice was utterly flat.

Frigga let out another world weary sigh. “What would you have me do, Thor? Ignore him? Never speak to him again? He is my son, child, just as much as you are.”

 _Loki,_ Steve realized all at once, swallowing around a lump in his throat, _they were talking about Loki._ Loki was not a subject they spoke of frequently, or at all. It was a sour point between them, Steve unwilling to forgive an uninvited attack against his planet so easily and Thor unapologetic and reluctant to damn his brother for it. He pulled the cloak tighter around himself, trying to gain some comfort from the Alpha-scent that saturated the thing. He had known that their mating would not go unchallenged, that Odin would not be pleased, but it had not yet struck him that…that there was a _people,_ a whole population that would lend an opinion. In the heat of everything, with the Aether hanging over his head, Steve hadn’t really given it much thought.

But it was there, and it clearly it wasn't something to be ignored.

What had Thor introduced him as? His Prince-consort? Steve was…Steve was _royalty_ now, royalty to a people who he knew nothing about. Who knew nothing about him. A Prince to a people whose had pups double his age. To say he was intimidated by the thought was an understatement.

“And he speaks the truth. Much has been said of your Steven lately, your stalwart friends have done well to spread tales of his bravery in combat, and of his worthiness. But it is…sudden.”

Thor looked away, his hands curling by his side. “…why have you sent Vidar to us?”

Frigga scoffed. “I have not sent him anywhere. You know your brother does as he wills.” From his perch, Vidar gave a friendly wave at the two. Frigga’s smiled softly before the expression disappeared completely. “You know the fates, just as I. If there is even a chance that the Aether may bring Ragnarök–”

“He is not needed.” Thor said sharply, so sharply that Steve jumped from his hiding place. “Steven will not fall to the Aether. His presence is not required.”

A long, heavy silence fell, ladened with a gravitas that the Omega could not name. Finally Frigga broke it, her head bowing slowly. “As you say, my son. I will continue my efforts, but…it will not be long. Prepare yourself, Thor. And remember, I love you.”

Thor’s shoulders sagged suddenly, nodding mutely. The hologram faded away, Vidar darting forward and picking up a small, silver disk from the ground. Thor stepped forward, his hand gentle as he ran it through the younger Prince’s hair. Vidar leaned into the touch like a cat, nuzzling Thor’s palm.

“I love you, too, my brother.”

Vidar gave him a small smile before nodding towards the open door and Steve jolted, backing away from the door rapidly as Thor turned to look. Not quick enough, it would seem by his mate's exasperated face. The Alpha patted the boy’s head once more before crossing the space and entering the bedroom. Steve sat on the bed, feeling foolish and like a little boy again, still in the orphanage and caught by the nuns up past his bedtime. The cloak was still wrapped around him like a shield and the Omega picked at the threads with his fingernail, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

Thor sighed, stepping fully into the bedroom and shutting the door behind him. “Steven–”

“I’m sorry I’m causing you problems.” Steve interrupted, his voice low. “I should haven’t agreed to…” He swallowed harshly, forcing the words out, “to the mating. Your mother is right, it was impulsive, and I’ve put your people at risk–”

Thor moved like a snake strike, pressing Steve back across the bed in one sudden movement, his body a heavy weight atop him. The Aesir Alpha’s eyes seemed to glow in the dim light and outside of the cabin the night sky suddenly lit with an bone echoing crash as thunder boomed, light cutting the room in flashes only for the cabin to shake again seconds later.

“Do not say such a thing,” Thor warned, his voice a low growl that made Steve’s toes curl. “Not to me, my love. Never to me.”

“Thor...” Steve managed, blinking against frustrated tears. “Why can’t you see reason? Everyone else sees it but you.”

“I would bow to reason if there was any to be found in this madness.” The Alpha insisted, leaning down to nuzzle at Steve’s chin, pressing soft, fleeting kisses there. “You are my mate.” He said, mouthing the words against his skin. “You are my Omega-consort, my equal in everything. I love you,” and Steve closed his eyes, ignoring the ache in them, arms rising to loop around his mate’s middle, “is it unreasonable for me to protect that?”

Steve just shook his head, burrowing into the warmth of his Alpha’s shoulder.

“You are a Prince,” the Omega finally said, voice alarmingly level for the turmoil he felt, “you have a people – a universe – to protect. You can’t just throw that away for me.”

Thor tore away, staring down at him, livid. “The hell I can’t.”

“Thor,” Steve continued, undeterred, “Thor, what is Ragnarök?”

The Alpha went utterly still, paling underneath his tan. “…you need not worry yourself about such a thing.”

“What is it? I’ve heard that word twice; first when Vidar came, then just now with your mother.” Steve pressed, sitting up as Thor pulled away, watching as his mate began to pace the narrow lengths of their bedroom. “You can’t keep things from me, Thor. Not anymore. You called me your Omega-consort, a Prince to your people. I have a right to know.”

Thor paused in his strides, head bowed. “…the doom of the gods.”

“What?”

“It was said, when my youngest brother was born, that an end would come.”

“A…end?” Steve parroted, feeling a ball of dread grow in his stomach. “To what?”

Thor turned to look at him, his expression eerily blank in the brief bursts of lightening. The thunder outside was growing louder, the cabin shaking with both it and the howl of a sudden gale. “To everything. That is what Ragnarök is; the end of everything. When it comes, the Valar will be laid asunder and only a handful of my people will survive it. Only a handful of _worlds._ A great darkness that will sweep over the nine realms, snuffing out worlds and dimensions like a breath against a candle flame.” Thor hesitated, as if unsure. “It has been foreseen that when the moment comes, Vidar will fight back the darkness. That he will lead the survivors to establish a new realm.”

Steve had gone very, very still, Frigga’s words suddenly echoing in his head. “It’s me, isn’t?”

“Steven–”

“That’s what they think, isn’t it? That why Vidar came here! Because they think I – that the Aether – that I’ll destroy the universe?” Steve’s voice was gradually rising, until it was frantic cry of denial. He was on his feet without thought, a hand clasped over his heart where he could feel, even now, the subtle pull of the Aether. “Odin is right. I have to be put to sleep – if that’ll be what stops it.”

“No!” Thor snarled, his arms locking like vices around his forearms, shaking him roughly. “No, I will not allow it. You are not the bringer of Ragnarök; I swear it!”

But Steve was shaking his head in denial, trying to pull away. “Let me go, I have to go.”

“Where?”

“To your father. He has to put me to sleep; I won’t be the end of everything, I won’t.” Steve’s fear had bled into his voice, making it tremble, but the Omega refused to acknowledge it. “Tony, Bruce, Nat, Clint – I can’t, I _won’t_ be responsible for something like that. I refuse!”

Thunder exploded around them, so loud that Steve jumped with it, could feel it echo in his lungs, and the cabin shook so fiercely that a mounted antler set tumbled from the wall and clattered against the ground. Thor’s mouth was suddenly on his own, kissing him brutally as arms held him so tightly against the Alpha’s chest Steve could barely breath. He fought against it, trying to pull away, but Thor was unforgiving and slowly Steve’s struggles ceased. He drooped into the hold, hands curling against Thor’s sleep shirt.

Thor’s hold gentled, a hand cradling his head as the kiss softened, the Alpha’s tongue slipping when Steve let out a throaty sigh. Thor pulled away a moment later, chest heaving, and Steve had only a moment to catch the desolate set of the Alpha’s features before Thor buried his face against his shoulder.

“Do not say such things,” Thor begged, his arms desperately tight around him once more, “please, my love. I cannot bare to hear you say them.”

“Thor…” Steve sighed, wrapping his own arms around the trembling form. He turned, nuzzling against the Alpha’s head. “You know what I’m saying is true. This is a dream,” he said softly, "a beautiful dream.”

“Then let us not awaken.” Thor said stubbornly, his words muffled by Steve’s skin. “I will not lose you, Steven. Not now, not ever.”

Steve closed his eyes against the painful thudding of his heart. “I love you.”

Thor let out a wounded sound, kissing Steve once more, his hands rucking up the Omega’s sleep tunic, leaving his lower bare to the night air even as his skin was burnt by the heat of his mate’s hands. They slid around his stomach, one palming his buttocks while the other slid up his back, Thor pulling away to mouth at a covered nipple. Steve moaned, a hand grasping at Thor’s hair as his hips rolled against the Alpha’s solid thigh.

“I love you.” Thor whispered, a sharp tug ripping the sleep shirt completely from Steve’s frame. A heated kiss was pressed against his chest as the Alpha sank down and Steve shuddered, moaning as an open mouth kiss was pressed against his hip.

“Thor,” the Omega whimpered, panting as his legs were spread, Thor’s mouth hot and wet against his rapidly hardening length. Fingers slid up his thigh, brushing against his center before flowing upward, teasing at his opening, “your brother is in the other room.”

“Vidar is older than he appears.” Thor answered, amused, and then his mouth was sinking down, Steve’s head snapping back as he bit back a loud groan, hips thrusting forward. Thick fingers pressed upwards, breaching him in one swift motion. His slick dripped liberally; it was absurd really, how quickly he grew wet from Thor. Sometimes even a lewd look was enough to make it flow, ensuring for an uncomfortable encounter if they were amongst others. He could hear the sticky sound of Thor’s fingers thrusting in out of him, the Alpha’s tongue lapping at the head of his cock like it was candy.

“Thor!” Steve cried out, blushing at how loud the sound was, and felt a flare of annoyance at Thor’s chuckle. He gasped as he was suddenly spun and thrown down upon the bed. The Omega scrambled to his hands and knees, but he had little time to do anything else when he was suddenly mounted, Steve’s cry muffled by the bedding.

Thor groaned above him, hands reaching down and covering his own. “I love you,” Thor repeated, breathless as he thrusted. “I have searched for you for ages, since before you were a glimmer of an idea in your forbearers’ mind.”

“Thor!”

A kiss was pressed against his nape. “I dreamed of you; of my match, of an Omega worthy of serving by my side. I dreamed of you before you had a name, a face. I spilled my seed to the promise of you, of the children you will give me.”

Steve let out a fraught gasp, the words too much, and he felt himself choke up with emotion, entwining their fingers and squeezing tightly even as he frantically shoved himself back harshly to meet each thrust.

“I have looked for you in every Omega I met,” Thor continued, his voice hitching as he neared his end, neither able to last long with such heightened emotions, Thor's knot a hard, throbbing mass inside him. Steve sobbed, head dropping to hang boneless between them as they tied, his orgasm over taking him like the sudden breaking of a unexpected wave. He could feel the bloom of warmth as Thor followed, his seed washing his insides. “I will never let you leave me.”

Steve collapsed against the bed, his hips held up only by his mate’s hold.

“Do you hear me, beloved?” Thor rasped out, voice ragged. A hand curled around his neck, pulling him up until Steve was staring blearily up at the Alpha. “You were born to be mine; to rule by my side for the entirety of our very long lives. I would no more allow you to be taken from me then I would hew my own limb.”

Thor’s grip tightened, his eyes hardening but filled with such possessive love that Steve felt his heart melt with it.

“I would tear the nine realms apart before I allow my mate to be taken from me.”

Steve’s eyes shut, nodding mutely. “And if it happens? If the Aether wins and I bring the end of everything?”

Thor’s lips crashed down upon his own, hard and unforgiving, his words spoken into the gasping cavern of Steve’s mouth. “Then I will burn alongside you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, shit. Things are getting real. How did we like Vidar? And the others? Hoped you enjoyed, see you guys in An Unexpected Visitor, Part 2.


End file.
